


(i got them) bad boy blues

by stilahey



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Depression, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Slow Burn, minor vague mentions of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilahey/pseuds/stilahey
Summary: As if it’ll help ease his chest pains—or perhaps another minor distraction from the word-vomit he just spewed everywhere—Kuroo stretches his legs out in front of him and ignores the faint pop of his knee joints.The roar of the ocean sounds louder than ever.(or, in which kuroo takes a beach vacation to soothe his depression; a slow tale of dealing with mental illness, falling in love, and figuring out the extent of tsukishima kei’s knowledge of marine life.)





	1. tuesday

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the song _[summer shandy - the front bottoms](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H3qVwAr4zNE)_ , and is particularly relevent to like, the entire fic haha. give it a listen maybe

_21:16_ , the daunting numbers staring up at Kuroo from the much-too-bright screen of his phone. He locks it and then quickly unlocks it again seconds later, not at all surprised to see that the time read the same, but he was hoping that maybe, _just_ _maybe,_ it was wrong. Like, they couldn’t possibly have _just_ arrived at nine p.m, right?

The four-hour plane ride was long enough, but this twenty-minute walk is starting to feel like an eternity. In fact, all of this—in which ‘ _this_ ’ is a sudden impromptu vacation to Okinawa—is starting to feel like a goddamn lifetime, and the group aren’t even at the accommodation yet.

Kuroo feels the regret start to bubble up again, coming back in waves every time he pushes it down. He’s never been the best at managing his impulsive decisions, especially not those he feels in the early hours of the morning. Sleepless nights, plus the constant nagging feeling of needing to do _something_ , literally anything else, leads to choices like this— a random vacation to the sunny beach island of Ishigaki.

It felt like a good idea at the time, to get some much-needed fresh air and bask in the comforting warmth of the seaside; just him, his closest friends, and the lovely clawing reminder that he’s repeating his habit of running away and trying to occupy himself with fresh new things in the vain attempt that it’ll make him feel better. Alright. No more of that.

Kuroo tightens his grip on his suitcase handle and focuses on the trip as a whole, on the positive aspects rather than his pointless negative thoughts.

They probably should have left Tokyo a little earlier than four, though Kuroo can’t say he minded the smug satisfaction that came with not being the last one to arrive, for once. He supposes he had the benefit of the meeting place being _his own house_ , but that’s not the point. Shockingly, like, _really_ surprisingly, Tsukishima took the title of latecomer. Kuroo doesn’t remember Tsukki ever being late, not a single time in the several years he’s known the guy.

He’s usually always early to things, actually, so when he ends up knocking on Kuroo’s door half an hour after the agreed meeting time, with his _adorable_ little suitcase in tow… _well_. Kuroo’s probably never made so many jabs at Tsukishima in such a short amount of time.

They weren’t too mean, and definitely not at all directed towards his cute suitcase (it really is cute, Kuroo feels his heart flutter a little every time he sees it), but just inquisitive towards his reasoning for being a whole thirty minutes late to a trip to the airport, to take a _flight_ — the more Kuroo thinks about it, the more he starts to consider the very real possibility that the Tsukishima Kei he knows and loves has been replaced with an alien.

Kuroo looks ahead, still thinking about his alien conspiracy, and spots the soft-pink suitcase being pulled along by an even softer man. He smiles at Tsukki’s slouched posture, a trait indicative of him being tired, and then briefly speeds up his walking pace to catch the tail-end of a conversation.

“—why didn’t you just nap on the plane?”

“Yeah, sleeping is _entirely_ _possible_ when sat next to Bokuto,” Tsukishima waves his hand dismissively.

Akaashi laughs in what Kuroo guesses is understanding, because _yeah_. He didn’t get much rest on the plane himself, he’s never been good with sleeping while travelling, but he remembers the four hours of nonstop chatter between Bo and Tsukki. Except, it wasn’t exactly _between_ the two of them, and was probably considered a one-sided conversation with how much Bokuto was putting in compared to what Tsukishima was giving out.

It was still interesting to listen in on though, Bokuto quickly ranging from topic to topic and gauging the reaction he received in order to test which subject to actually stick with. Volleyball got him an unperturbed hum, the latest tv drama got a few shrugs and blasé remarks, but a horror movie that Bokuto had watched recently was the winning topic, earning a grand response of wide eyes and an _actual_ conversation.

It was only a few tired sentences as the two of them waver from movie to movie, but, Kuroo enjoyed the background noise and can’t deny he let out a small laugh at the comment of “ _don’t you dare try to tell me_ Rings _was good_ ” from an exhausted Tsukishima.

Kuroo comes to a sudden stop, distracted by his thoughts and bumping up against something _,_ or _someone,_ in his path. He stumbles a few steps back and leans around Bokuto, trying to find the exact reason for their minor traffic jam.

In front of them, sitting perfectly at the edge of the path, is their accommodation for the next week. It’s a moderately sized beach house, Kuroo wasn’t really expecting it to be _this_ spacious. He thinks the walls are an off-white colour, that’s what he remembers from the pictures he saw online, but the warm pink glow from the sunset is kinda fucking with his perception of colour right now.

There’s a palm tree to the right of the front door, planted neatly in the small patch of grass, and after finally looking around, Kuroo notices the several other trees planted evenly along the path.

He takes a second to turn, a full three-sixty spin to really take in the surroundings that he seemed to completely miss on the way in.

His attention span has never been particularly great, which explains how he happened to miss an entire street full of houses _identical_ to the one they’ve stopped in front of. Luckily someone else in the group must have been looking out for the right door number, because Kuroo would have probably just wandered around endlessly until he got lost.

Someone forces a horribly-fake cough that Kuroo has heard enough times to place as Akaashi, so he quickly throws his hands up in a defensive manner.

“Alright, gimme a second. I need to find the keys,” Kuroo says, beginning to pat down his pockets.

Tsukishima laughs lightly at that.

“Well this is going to take a while. I see Bokuto has already found a way to occupy himself for the next _hour_.”

His tone is gentle, soft and playful, but _lacking_ its snappy bite; a lesser-seen side of Tsukishima that seems to appear more often when he’s tired. Kuroo cherishes this side to him, like he cherishes every side to Tsukishima, but there’s just something about the warm eyes and lazy smiles that almost distract Kuroo from where Bokuto is befriending a stray cat. Hey, give him some credit, he said _almost_.

A couple feet away, Bokuto is crouched down on the ground, hand reached out a few inches in front of him as he draws the cat nearer. It’s working absolutely perfectly until sudden footsteps approach and scare the cat away, making Bokuto look up at Akaashi with his signature over-dramatic pout. Kuroo chuckles to himself then gasps in surprise as a weak punch hits him in the arm.

Looking over, Kuroo sees Tsukishima smirking at him and— oh right. The keys. _Shit_. He’ll let the bullying slide just this once, knowing Tsukishima’s smug little grin is holding back a myriad of “ _I told you so_ ” comments.

He starts to fish around in his pockets, awkwardly sliding his hands in as deep as they’ll go. He checks his left hoodie pocket first, pulling out nothing but his phone, and then the right, also just containing junk (a few pieces of loose change and a squashed foil ball of gum wrappers). He quickly checks his jeans, the right pocket first, then the left, the back left— there they are! _Finally_. He hears a snort from one of the guys, most likely Tsukki, and steps forward to unlock the front door.

The inside of the apartment immediately explains why the outside looked so spacious, and it’s simply because it _is_. For a room containing not much else besides two sofas, a coffee table, and a tv, Kuroo decides it really shouldn’t be as large as it is. Of course, he doesn’t _mind_ , he’s not going to complain about the abundance of space, especially considering the low price to stay here for the week.

The living room—and probably the rest of the place—is furnished in a western fashion, rather than the traditional style that Kuroo was used to seeing back at home, but he guesses that the decorating was chosen to appeal to tourists and it’s decidedly not that bad.

Bokuto runs past Kuroo almost instantly, his bright blue suitcase wobbling on its wheels as it’s dragged along, struggling to keep up and nearly toppling over. With a small huff, Akaashi follows close behind him, and Kuroo assumes they’ve gone to find the bedroom.

Tsukki wanders towards one of the couches and with a heavy sigh, drops down onto it. He lies down and kicks his feet up, and Kuroo grins at his instantly closed eyes.

“Are you not gonna look around, Tsukki?”

He gets a non-committal hum in response, something Kuroo is entirely used to when speaking to Tsukishima; just like how the other has gotten used to the nickname he used to claim to “ _despise_ ”. Tsukki throws an arm over his face, surely knocking his glasses askew but not seeming to care that much.

“I’m good here. I don’t think I can move, to be honest.” His voice is quiet, and the genuine tiredness to his tone is the only thing stopping Kuroo from poking too much fun. Years of volleyball only to get tired out after a bit of walking?

Kuroo laughs, content on maybe making a little tiny jab (because really, who is he if he isn’t teasing Tsukki?) before shuffling out of his shoes and walking over to the foot of the couch. He grabs the handle of Tsukishima’s suitcase.

“Okay, _lazy_. I’m taking your stuff into the bedroom.”

Tsukki gives a small thumbs up and nothing else, so Kuroo heads in the direction that Bo and Akaashi went earlier and prays it leads straight to the bedroom. He’s admittedly too tired himself to be adventuring around a new place right now.

The bedroom is just as large as the living room, though the furniture actually manages to fill the room and it doesn’t feel quite as _lonely_ in comparison. Three double beds—each separated by an end table—rest along the wall, and a sliding glass door on the far wall leads out to a small patio area. There’s also a door to the left of the room which Kuroo can only assume leads into the bathroom.

Bokuto is already sprawled out on the bed closest to the entrance of the room, which means he didn’t _choose_ it, and obviously just jumped onto it because it was the nearest. Considering how Tsukki hadn’t even made it to the bedroom yet, at least Bo was a step ahead.

Akaashi stands next to the bed, his arms folded across his chest but the slight smile on his face hinting that he’s happily listening to his boyfriend ramble on about… _ramen_ , apparently.

Kuroo walks over to the furthest bed and slides Tsukishima’s suitcase next to it. He turns, and then moves his own suitcase to rest against the bed in the middle of the room before throwing himself onto it. Hm. _Not bad_. He shuffles his feet, sliding his clothed legs against the sheets, and hums to himself.

Out of the corner of his periphery, he notices Bokuto suddenly sit up and almost punch Akaashi with his flailing arms.

“Kuroo, I can’t believe you and Tsukki get a bed each!” Bokuto whines dramatically, “this is _soooo_ unfair.”

Akaashi blinks dumbly.

“Yeah, it’s totally unfair that you have to share a bed with your boyfriend,” he says, voice monotone.

Kuroo grins as he sits up. He hears a cute laugh to his right, undeniably Tsukishima, and he looks over to see Tsukki standing at the foot of the farthest bed. His suitcase is on top of the bed, flipped open, and he’s slowly pulling out neat piles of clothing and stacking them next to the open case. Kuroo crosses his legs as he faces him.

“I let you have the bed furthest away from Bo, because he snores,” Kuroo says.

He’s about to continue when something hits him in the back, the softness telling him it’s just a pillow, but _still_. Bokuto yells, solidifying himself as the main suspect and only obvious culprit of the pillow-throwing crime.

“Hey! I do _not_ snore.”

Kuroo can hear the fake pout, though truthfully, he’s slightly distracted by the gorgeous smile on Tsukishima’s face.

“And so, y’know, he doesn’t throw any pillows at you.” Kuroo adds on.

Tsukishima nods, still smiling, and then offers a small “ _thanks_ ” in response.

He reaches down to grab the hem of his shirt and starts to lift it up— Kuroo tears his eyes away. This isn’t for him to see, as much as he wants it to be. It’s invasive and weird and… Kuroo isn’t going to be caught staring at a shirtless guy like some kinda horny teenager. He’s past that. _Mostly_.

Instead, he opts for watching Bokuto unpack. He flips his suitcase open and immediately starts to pull out several different bottles of hair products, a few shampoos and conditioners but mostly gels and waxes. Does one person _really_ need all those products? Kuroo notices Akaashi wiping at his face and realises they’re both thinking the exact same thing, but at least Akaashi always has the guts to speak his mind. It’s admirable, especially around Bokuto.

“Is that why you insisted on the big suitcase? For your hair products?” He asks, tone dubious.

Bokuto points accusingly at Akaashi’s open case.

“Come on Keiji, you unpacked some _clothes_ to make room for face creams!”

Akaashi huffs, hiding a laugh, and innocently shrugs his shoulders in lieu of a response.

Kuroo chuckles at that before sitting up and sliding under the blankets on the bed. He’s fucking _exhausted_ , and for once in his life he feels like he might actually get a decent night’s sleep. Insomnia, or _depression_ rather, is a bitch.

He hasn’t changed into any pyjamas, but the loose t-shirt and jeans he’s wearing are comfortable enough to sleep in. ‘Enough’ being the key word here, because jeans are not _ever_ suitable for sleeping. But it’s not like he has the energy to get changed anyway, knowing he needs to quickly ride the ‘feeling tired’ wave as far as it’ll take him, so he pulls the blankets up over himself and sighs contently.

“Gross, Kuroo, are you gonna sleep in your smelly clothes?” Bokuto jokes, and Kuroo slips his arm out from under the covers to do nothing but flip Bo off. He grins at the mock-offended gasp he hears in response.

There’s a shuffling sound to his right, and then a drawer opening and closing. Kuroo peeks out from under the blankets to watch Tsukishima—in a fresh new shirt—organize some of his stuff on the end table; a glasses case (his spare pair, Kuroo knows he carries them everywhere after the incident of Bo almost breaking his original pair), his phone and its charger, and the white headphones he was wearing around his neck all day. Kuroo would confidently wager money on the bet that he has a pair of headphones in every possible colour.

Tsukki looks over at him.

“Someone’s going to bed awfully early,” he grins, “is this the effect of old age, _Kuroo-san?_ ”

Kuroo holds back a laugh and wishes he had the energy to take the bait, to come up with a snappy retort like always, but he really is completely worn out. Maybe Tsukishima knows that and is getting his jabs in where he can. A cheap shot, but not unlike him to seize an open opportunity in this weird, unspoken back-and-forth they seem to have going on.

With no response good enough—they’ve jabbed at each other’s age enough times to know that pointing out the tiny two-year gap would be futile—Kuroo says nothing, and begrudgingly tallies this point to Tsukishima.

“ _Mhhm_ ,” Kuroo hums tiredly, letting out an involuntary yawn as he speaks, “something like that. ‘Night guys.”

He hears three different variations of ‘goodnight’ from his friends; a quiet “ _night, Kuro_ ” from Akaashi, an over-excited and much too loud “ _night dude!_ ” from Bokuto, and a soft “ _goodnight, Kuroo_ ” from Tsukishima, the smile evident in his tone.

Comfort washes over him and the sleepiness quickly settles in— a rare but well-appreciated feeling. With a final happy sigh, Kuroo lets his eyes drift shut, and for the first time in a while, he _actually_ looks forward to waking up tomorrow.


	2. wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeping up with Tsukki is an adventure, a _talent_ really, but never a chore.  
> Kuroo still remembers when they first met.

A bright beam of sunlight stirs Kuroo out of his peaceful slumber.

He throws an arm out towards the bedside table, waving it around in a dire attempt to find his phone; the cold air a sharp contrast to the warmth underneath the rest of the blanket.

His hand continuously smacks against the wood of the table and nothing else until _finally_ hitting his stupid fucking phone. Kuroo brings it towards his face, dangerously close, and cracks a single eye open to glance at the time: _7:48_ a.m. _Ugh_.

He lets out a quiet groan and clambers up to lean on his elbows, looking over at Bokuto and Akaashi. They’re both still sound asleep, and the way Bo has his arms wrapped tight around Akaashi makes Kuroo smile to himself.

He turns towards the other bed and holds back a sudden gasp at seeing Tsukishima sat up, already wide awake— or as wide awake as someone could be at eight in the morning, anyways. He’s scrolling almost aimlessly through his phone, thumb flicking upwards in a steady rhythm.

There’s a window on the wall next to him with the blinds cracked open ever so slightly, letting in a few tiny streams of light that cast bright lines along Tsukishima’s face and shoulders. He looks _beautiful_. The illumination from the sunlight seems to creep in under his skin, radiating outwards and giving off a subtle glow that has Kuroo almost blinded.

In case it wasn’t blatantly obvious by now, and Kuroo thinks it certainly is, he feels the need to address the elephant in the room; he has a crush on Tsukishima Kei. Just a tiny one, y’know, nothing _major_ , but still a crush.

Like, the cheesy-teenager type of crush. The I-get-embarrassed-thinking-about-holding-your-hand type of crush. As a grown man, he constantly considers that he should find a word other than ‘crush’ to describe it, but a simple “ _I have feelings for him_ ” doesn’t really drive the point home.

Kuroo could wax poetic about Tsukishima Kei for hours and hours. He thinks he probably has at some point, either mumbling to himself or writing it down on paper or maybe chatting to Bokuto, but he _really_ shouldn’t right now. Not in the hazy hours of the early morning, where his thoughts could easily spiral out of control and take a sudden dive into dangerous territory.

Thinking about Tsukki is always a little dangerous though, and maybe that’s why Kuroo keeps coming back to it; he really can’t help himself when it comes to taking risks. He could just let it be— he _should_. He should let the crush linger and eventually burn out, but he _doesn’t_ for some reason. Kuroo thinks about it a little too much sometimes.

It’s as if the inside of his brain is one huge empty room with a tightrope stretched across the middle. The left side of the rope is safety; it’s home to all of his rational thoughts and conscious decisions, his serious life choices. But the right side is _danger_ ; feelings of love and sappy emotional stuff, with a little extra sprinkling of Tsukishima Kei and thoughts about holding hands, cuddling, _kissing_ — it’s a very thin rope and Kuroo spends almost all his time trying to stay balanced.

Tsukki looks over at him then, and his eyes widen a fraction before he tucks some of his hair behind his ear. It’s a nervous gesture, one Kuroo has memorised alongside all the others: the way he hangs his hands and twirls his fingers, nudging his glasses up at the side rather than a single push to the bridge, and the barely-noticeable twitch of his left eyebrow. Kuroo feels his metaphorical footwork slipping and almost goes tumbling headfirst into the right side of his brain.

“I never expected you to be a morning person, Kuroo,” Tsukishima’s voice is quiet, tired. Kuroo just shakes his head in response and gathers up the energy to try and talk.

“I’m not, actually.”

He yawns, stretching his arms high above his head and instantly grimacing at the faint cracking of bones. There’s an almost inaudible whisper of “ _gross_ ” from Tsukki—definitely meant to go unheard—and Kuroo grins before continuing.

“I have trouble sleeping most of the time, so when I do fall asleep it’ll be in the early hours. Then I don’t get up ‘til the afternoon.”

Tsukishima nods and offers a small smile of acknowledgement. He turns back to look out the window once more and Kuroo decides he should eventually get up sometime today.

He slides out of bed slowly, and when his bare feet hit the floor he wants to scream. It’s _super_ fucking cold. He lets out an involuntary hiss instead and hears Tsukki giggle.

“Cold, huh?”

As if proving a point, Tsukishima pulls his blanket up and wraps himself in it further, cuddling into it and sighing happily at what Kuroo assumes is warmth. Lovely, lovely warmth. _Alright_.

Kuroo rolls his eyes and fakes a scowl, and Tsukki sticks his tongue out in a childish response that, to put it simply, makes Kuroo want to die. Tsukki’s rare moments of immaturity usually go unnoticed by everyone else, but Kuroo never misses the stuck-out tongues or the scrunched-up noses.

Actually, Kuroo keeps tabs on a _lot_ of lesser-known Tsukki things. He has a few memos taped up on the inner-walls of his brain, including lists entitled ‘Tsukki’s adorable nervous habits’ and ‘How to tell what Tsukishima is thinking from the exact angle of his eyebrows’. Keeping up with Tsukki is an adventure, a _talent_ really, but never a chore.

Kuroo still remembers when they first met.

It was four years ago, his last year of university, a sunny Tuesday afternoon when Bokuto briefly mentions that Akaashi was bringing someone new to their weekly scheduled lunch. “ _I met him in one of my classes_ ,” Akaashi had said, tapping his pen rhythmically against his notebook as he talked, “ _his name’s Tsukishima_.”

Tsukishima, wonderfully new Tsukishima, with his fingers wrapped tight around the strap of his bag, was quiet and nervous. Kuroo remembers the way he introduced himself, his short bow and the too-confident greeting, like he’d rehearsed it over a hundred times before leaving the house. He was different back then, reserved and stand-offish; eventually blossoming into the sarcastic, easy-going guy he is today.

It only took Kuroo—he mentally adds it up—two months of persistent badgering before Tsukishima no longer scowled at being called Tsukki, five months for him to stop leaning away from physical contact, and by the year mark, their conversations were long and comfortable and a well-welcomed addition to Kuroo’s increasingly hectic life.

Any Tsukki is good, be it the quiet university student or the snarky young-adult, Kuroo is just glad to have Tsukki in his life— and just like that, Kuroo’s gone. He finds himself waist-deep in that oh-so-dangerous territory inside his head. _Again_. He really needs to get a grip on this, maybe he could learn how to tightrope walk?

He shakes his head in a vain attempt to clear his stupid thoughts and receives a strange look from Tsukki, but he ignores it and promptly shuffles towards his suitcase. He tosses it up onto the bed and throws the case open, immediately spotting his towel and grabbing it to place aside. He then starts to root through his other junk—probably should have reconsidered when he packed three different hats, which he definitely won’t wear—until he grabs the first pair of underwear he sees. He holds both items up, his towel in one hand and his… cat-print boxers in the other.

“I’m, uh, gonna go shower.”

Tsukishima nods and gives a small shrug, so Kuroo escapes into the bathroom before he decides to open his mouth again and say something even weirder.

The bathroom is _nice_ ; way nicer than the one Kuroo has back at his own place. A little small, there’s hardly any walking space between the utilities, but it’s still oddly cosy. Kuroo throws his towel and underwear onto a nearby empty towel rail and then takes a proper look around.

The first thing he notices is the circular mirror on the wall above the sink, and— wow, is that really what he looks like? _Geez_. Props to Tsukki for managing to not make a single joke about his hair this morning, because _god-damn_.

He takes a step forward to get a better look, dragging a hand down his face and then pulling his lower-lid down while sticking his tongue out, as if the reflection in the mirror would cave and refuse to mimic such silly antics; a glorious victory and proof that the man staring back at him was an imposter.

But, alas, the reflection doesn’t falter even for a second, and Kuroo just stares dumbly back at himself as he continues to pose in a way that he’s _sure_ he’s seen Oikawa do before. He lets go of his face and straightens up with a small huff.

Below the mirror, on the sink countertop, sits a few common bathroom items: a couple small bars of soap, pale and boring and probably not all that great in the scent department; a tub of hand sanitizer that Kuroo assumes was brought here by one of the guys, and a small plastic cup with three toothbrushes inside— ah. Toothbrushes, _right_. Kuroo completely forgot to brush his teeth last night and he forgot to bring his stuff in with him just now. Whatever, he’ll come back to it after his shower.

Kenma reminds him of this kinda stuff all the time, and Kuroo is sure he’d just be a gross smelly mess if he didn’t have someone around to yell at him for it. So he keeps a routine, something that he’s spent months—years, even—perfecting, an easy way for him to make sure he keeps up with his hygiene and health even if he doesn’t necessarily _want to_ sometimes. He’s on vacation, sure, and maybe the minor switch-up in plans (moving teeth-brushing to _after_ the shower rather than before) isn’t that big of a deal, but Kuroo still intends to stick to his routine. Everything is a little bit easier if he can keep to a pattern.

He shuffles out of his clothes quickly, realising he’s probably wasted a lot of time thinking about absolutely nothing, and as soon as the cold air hits his skin he almost _sprints_ into the shower.

Turning the dials, Kuroo hisses and leans away from the scalding water, giving it a few seconds until it settles to a comfortable warmth and he steps back into the stream with a content sigh. With moments like these, the hot water washing over him and making him feel like his problems are _literally_ going down the drain, Kuroo remember just why he keeps a routine in place. He feels his mind refreshing instantly.

He looks at the little shelf on the shower-wall and then pauses— he’d forgotten to bring his own products with him. Early-morning Kuroo really needs to get a better handle on his life. Every single aspect of life. _All of it_.

At least there’s some stuff already in here. Kuroo pushes his hair out of his face and reaches for the nearest shower-gel-looking bottle, which he holds up to his face so he can actually read— and then snorts out a laugh. Tsukki’s love of strawberries even extends to his hygiene products, it seems. There’s no harm in using it, Kuroo’s not going to waste it or use up the entire bottle, so he squeezes some into his hands and makes quick work of showering.

When he’s satisfied enough with his sweet new strawberry scent, he calls it quits and turns off the water, instantly mourning the loss of warmth and dreading stepping outside. The steam in the bathroom helps a tiny bit, but Kuroo still rushes towards his towel and pats himself down as fast as he can, forgoing complete dryness to just try and get back into the bedroom so he can put some clothes on.

He towels off his hair only slightly, finishing it up with a dramatic shake of his head like a dog shaking off water. He supposes that the defence of “ _my hair is naturally like this!_ ” isn’t the _complete_ truth, not when he lets it dry like this, but it’s not like anyone needs to know about his very intricate hair rituals.

Pulling his underwear up is a difficult task with his damp legs, the fabric twisting and sticking to his skin, but he gets there eventually and lets the waistband snap against his hips when he lets go.

He throws the towel over his shoulders, a safety measure to catch the inevitable stray water droplets that’ll fall from his hair, and finally leaves the bathroom. _Goodbye, precious warmth_.

Now sitting up in bed, Akaashi is talking quietly to Tsukishima, with Bokuto still peacefully asleep and somehow still with his arms wrapped tight around Akaashi’s waist. The sound of the bathroom door closing seems to knock him out of his conversation, and Akaashi turns with a sleepy expression.

“Good morning, Kuroo,” he says softly.

Kuroo throws his hand up to offer a casual wave, and Akaashi nods back at him in understanding. Talking in the morning has never been one of his strong suits, he either has the energy to babble for hours or he suddenly falls incapable of muttering a single word. Akaashi shifts around, adjusting Bokuto’s hold on him, until he seems to comfortably face Tsukki again.

Tsukki sits still, unmoving and silent, looking at Kuroo with a strange expression that Kuroo honestly doesn’t think he’s _ever_ seen before. Finding a new Tsukki-based-mystery to decipher is certainly a welcome surprise, but as soon as he makes conscious eye contact with Kuroo, he looks away instantly and turns back to Akaashi. Kuroo furrows his eyebrows in mild confusion as Tsukki seamlessly transitions right back into conversation, but quickly shrugs it off.

He stands in front of his open suitcase, looking down at it as if his vision was suddenly x-ray and he could peer through the endless layers to see the rest of his clothes underneath. Spotting his toothbrush and other bathroom supplies, he quickly puts them to the side and makes a mental note to _definitely_ not forget them this time. He starts to lift up some of his neatly folded clothes— _thanks Akaashi_ —and stares at the colours and patterns until finding some items he actually wants to wear.

“Is Bokuto going to wake up anytime soon?” Tsukki asks, and Kuroo lets out a short breath while Akaashi laughs.

“Nope,” Kuroo cuts in, throwing his chosen t-shirt and jeans over his shoulder, “Bo can sleep through just about anything.”

Akaashi drags a hand down his face before speaking, and Kuroo tries not to laugh at the story he knows is inevitably about to come.

“A car crashed outside our apartment complex once. Kou had absolutely no idea what I was talking about when I mentioned it the next day.”

There’s a soft snicker to his left, and Kuroo looks over to see Tsukki holding his hands in front of his face, either to try and muffle his laughter or maybe to _hide_ it. Kuroo feels his own face become warm at the thought of wanting to pull Tsukki’s hands away and see his adorable smile, so he quickly ignores the grin threatening to break onto his face and shuts his suitcase a little more dramatically than necessary.

“Right, I’m gonna go get ready for the day,” Kuroo shuffles backwards towards the bathroom door, “someone wake sleeping beauty up.”

Akaashi gives a thumbs up in response and Kuroo takes this as his cue to turn around and _finally_ head back into the bathroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slooow burn lmao i promise we'll get to the actual romance soon enough :')
> 
> as always feel free to say hey sometime on [twitter](https://twitter.com/transtsukki)!!


	3. wednesday ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Holy shit,” Bokuto interrupts, “look at _this_.”
> 
> Kuroo instinctively spins around to look at what “this” could possibly be, and the sight he’s rewarded to is _beautiful_. Objectively not as beautiful as a bashful Tsukishima—or _any_ Tsukishima—but still, this sure is _something_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is sorta filler-y if u wanna call it that but also its just fun shenanigans and we're here for the slow ride babye (enjoy!!)

The sunlight, blindingly bright despite it only being around nine in the morning, irritates Kuroo’s eyes to the point of needing to put his sunglasses on. He could always just take one from Tsukki’s book and place a hand—no, _two_ hands—above his eyes, which is a piss-poor and laughable attempt at shielding himself from the sun, really.

As if reading Kuroo’s thoughts, Tsukki drops one of his sun-protector hands to flip Kuroo off, and then glares harder than Kuroo has ever seen him glare before. Or maybe it was just a squint caused by the other type of glare, the obnoxious sun glare that is _undoubtedly_ obscuring the lenses of Tsukki’s regular not-sunglasses.

They don’t have any plans for the day yet, leaving the house unprepared as always, but—

“Can we go to the beach?” Bokuto practically _yells_.

Akaashi sighs, leaning away a miniscule amount in an attempt to protect his ears, and Kuroo fidgets with adjusting his sunglasses properly before he speaks.

“Why don’t we just wander around today? Maybe check out what there is to do around here?”

“There’s a mall nearby, I think,” Tsukishima adds on, and Kuroo points a finger at him in a wordless gesture of ‘good idea’.

He watches as Bokuto seemingly lights up at that, his eyes going wide for a second, and Kuroo assumes there’s a little movie playing in his head; images of food and fancy drinks alongside clips of fun, yet _pointless,_ shopping adventures, maybe a montage or two of trying on stupid clothes

Bokuto grins wide, pulling at the brim of his baseball cap to readjust it, and then he immediately charges off in a random direction.

“Let’s go then!”

Kuroo watches him walk ahead before turning to look at the others; Akaashi, after glancing between everyone, gives a small shrug and then follows after his boyfriend; and Tsukki, his hands still blocking the sun, lets out a casual hum before also starting to walk.

There was, indeed, a mall somewhere nearby.

Not like Kuroo has ever doubted anything Tsukishima has ever said— Tsukki could probably make up a blatant lie right in front of Kuroo’s face, say something outlandish like “ _I genuinely believe the Earth is flat_ ”, and as long as he said it in that usual serious tone of his, expression bored, Kuroo would become a flat-earther right alongside him.

He tries not to think about what that could possibly say about his character, how _gullible_ he might be, and instead puts it down to a positive; that he’s just super trusting in his friends. They always seem to know what’s best for him anyways, it’s not a far stretch to confidently put his faith in them.

Maybe he should reconsider when it comes to something like flat earth theory, though.

The mall—roughly about a fifteen-minute walk from their cabin, excluding the ten minutes where everyone stopped to insist on getting fancy and _expensive_ ice-cream—is pretty sizeable.

It’s a couple of floors high, maybe three or four, with a few of the stores having floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a slight peek at the goods inside, if you happened to have something to block the sun when looking up. Kuroo can spot several clothing stores just from the neat layouts and hanging rails, with some of the stores showcasing a brighter display than others, and he knows Bokuto will be impressed.

They head inside, Kuroo pushing his sunglasses up onto the top of his head, his fringe being pushed back with it but _whatever_. It’s fashionable.

There’s a coffee shop within his immediate eyeline, a small quaint place with a fancy sign and a chalkboard menu outside, and _wow_ he could go for a cold frappe right about now.

A lightbulb sparks up inside Kuroo’s head at his current chain of thoughts, the process looking a little like this; coffee shop, frappe, drink, _medication_. He forgot to take his fucking meds.

He apparently let the sudden spark show on his face, maybe he gasped without realising, because Akaashi looks over at him with a mildly concerned expression.

“Is something wrong, Kuroo?”

Kuroo shakes his head quickly, trying to dispel the worried stares of his friends.

“No, no, I just forgot to take my meds this morning,” he reaches around to pull his backpack off his arms, “does anyone have any water, or something?”

He starts to rifle through his bag as he awaits an answer, crouching down on the ground to stay balanced as he pushes through all the junk he carries around with him permanently. Literally _everyone_ keeps telling him to just clear out his bag already, but really the effort required to do that is well-above the level of energy that Kuroo actually _has_.

Besides, who’s to say he doesn’t _enjoy_ the trash in his bag? Sometimes a guy just wants to reminisce on—he flips over the crumpled receipt in his hand—spending _way_ too much money on pizza, _holy shit_.

Something freezing cold pushes against his cheek suddenly, and Kuroo drops his backpack out of shock, almost losing his footing and falling back onto his ass. He looks up with what he _hopes_ is a scowl but is probably more of a wide-eyed, surprised kinda look.

Tsukishima pulls back the bottle of… _peach tea_ , apparently, leaving a cold damp spot against Kuroo’s face.

He’s smirking down at him, chin tilted up slightly to peer down his nose, and Kuroo could _definitely_ make a comment or two about how hot this sight is, but he won’t. Not when he has other genuinely important things on his mind, like taking this stupid cold drink and finding his stupid medication.

He grabs the bottle with one hand, using the other to wipe at the wet spot on his cheek, and Tsukki laughs lightly before turning away and picking back up his conversation with Bokuto.

Eventually finding his pill case at the very bottom of his backpack—hidden amongst all the trash he so dearly loves—Kuroo mentally cheers to himself and quickly shakes two of the tablets into his hand, washing them down with a small sip of juice.

He caps the drink and drops his meds back into the abyss that he calls a bag, and then slips the straps over his shoulders while standing up, pointedly ignoring the horrible crack of his knees when he does so.

Tsukki, no longer talking and instead casually scrolling through his phone, is so _perfectly_ distracted and uninterested in anything going on around him that Kuroo can’t help himself. Really, he’s just supposed to _ignore_ this opportunity that is being so effortlessly handed to him?

Kuroo lets the cold bottle weigh heavy in his hand for a few moments, thinking over the decision that he’s certainly already made, before exacting his well-timed, not-at-all-copied revenge.

He takes a few quiet steps forward, coming to a stop behind Tsukishima, and then quickly placing the bottle flush against his forehead. He _feels_ Tsukki jump before he hears the shocked mutter of “ _shit!_ ”, a beautiful and rare occurrence of hearing him swear, and he can’t help himself from barking out a laugh when Tsukki hastily snatches the bottle away from him.

To their right, Akaashi sighs loud enough for it to be a purposeful action and not just a casual thing, so Kuroo throws his hands up defensively and only puts them down again when Akaashi has finally turned away, no longer glaring in his general direction.

“Someone got told off,” Tsukki whispers, smirk toying at the corners of his mouth, and Kuroo rolls his eyes fondly to substitute for the fact that he so desperately wants to kiss the dumb smug look off Tsukishima’s face.

The mall is weirdly quiet all of a sudden, the only noise being the ambience of other people’s chattering and a very low hum of an overhead radio system. Kuroo looks around, noting Bokuto and Akaashi in the distance, hands clasped as they walk, and then nods for Tsukki to follow as he starts catching up.

They come to a stop inside a fairly large clothing store, one which Kuroo doesn’t quite know the name of due to not bothering to look at the sign outside. In his defence, having hands in front of your face that are trying to steal your sunglasses can be a _bit_ distracting. The racks of random, seemingly misplaced shirts indicate that it’s probably a thrift store of some kind.

Kuroo spares a quick moment while Tsukishima is looking around to reach back over and swipe his _own_ sunglasses off the blonde’s head. No, they’re not even covering his eyes, because Tsukishima _can’t_ wear sunglasses with his regular glasses and Kuroo has heard the same complaint every single time the sun shines a tiny bit brighter than usual. So, like, about seven _trillion_ times now.

It probably doesn’t help when Kuroo wears his shades just for the fun of it, aiming to _annoy_ instead of using them for their intended purpose, but like he’s said before; teasing Tsukki comes just as easy to him as breathing. It is _one-hundred percent_ just as necessary, too.

Standing by a rail of jackets, Akaashi calls out to Tsukishima and waves his hand to usher him over. He follows without hesitation, so Kuroo turns and begins wandering around the store by himself.

He finds Bokuto somewhere near the back, dramatically posing in front of a full-length mirror despite being alone. It takes Kuroo a second to get past the stance and realise that he’s wearing two hats stacked on top of each other and a denim jacket that looks roughly _three_ sizes too big for him.

Luckily the store is pumping the AC like electricity bills don’t exist, or else Bo would definitely be sweating up a storm right now.

Kuroo grabs the extra hat off of Bokuto’s head once he’s close enough, casually spinning it on his finger and then dropping it down onto a nearby display shelf.

“A little hot outside for such a heavy jacket, don’t you think?” He asks, and Bokuto only smiles at him.

“Really? I think I could make it work,” he starts to shrug it off, “maybe if I was shirtless underneath?”

He poses it as a question, probably to himself more than anything because Kuroo certainly wasn’t going to entertain the idea right now, not when he’s been distracted by an enticing rail full of garish colours and clashing patterns.

Before anyone can even consider stopping him, like they’d _dare_ , he’s standing in front of the rack, flicking through the button-ups with a squint that he hopes will shield his eyes. He genuinely considers putting his sunglasses on before realising how dickish he would look wearing shades indoors. Even _he_ wouldn’t sink to that level.

Bokuto joins his side a few minutes later and his eyes instantly light up at the plethora of ugly shirts. Kuroo holds back a laugh and grins instead, happy at just how much Bokuto seems to understand him.

There’s a light giggle nearby, and Kuroo looks over towards the noise.

Akaashi, with a hand over his mouth as he laughs, pauses his action of flipping through jackets and instead turns to talk to Tsukishima. Kuroo can’t hear them at this distance, the low hum of the music in the store drowning out Akaashi’s whispering, nor can he read lips; not like he hasn’t attempted it on several occasions though, constantly getting it wrong and eventually deciding to give up on that skill.

Whatever Akaashi had said has Tsukishima blushing instantly, cheeks turning pink and ears tinged slightly red, and Kuroo really wants to know what they’re talking about but he _really_ doesn’t want to look away either.

“Hey,” he starts, eyes still locked on the soft pink blotching across Tsukki’s cheekbones, “what do you think ‘Kaashi is saying—“

“Holy shit,” Bokuto interrupts, “look at _this_.”

Kuroo instinctively spins around to look at what “ _this_ ” could possibly be, and the sight he’s rewarded to is _beautiful_. Objectively not as beautiful as a bashful Tsukishima—or _any_ Tsukishima—but still, this sure is _something_.

In Bokuto’s hands, draped loosely on a hanger, is a tropical, floral-print button-up that is so disgustingly ugly that Kuroo can’t help but to just grin.

It’s purple mostly, with splashes of cyan and yellow and pink and— Kuroo’s already lost count of the colours, and for a brief second he thinks his eyes might have stopped working. He’s gonna need to borrow Tsukishima’s glasses at this rate.

The shirt is a _masterpiece_ , hands down the best-worst thing Kuroo has ever seen. It’s Hideous, with a capital ‘H’. It really works wonders on its own, but as Bokuto starts to try it on, Kuroo knows he _must_ participate. It’s his fucking duty to join in on this.

He looks down at the rack and brushes his fingers along the top of each hanger, gently nudging them out of the way to get past each specimen that just isn’t up to par.

The rifling-through takes a few more minutes until he spots something that could work, a flash of harsh royal-blue poking out from between mundane oranges and mustard-yellows. With a quiet “ _ah-ha!_ ”, he pulls the hanger out and _beams_.

The first thing his eyes adjust to is the blue, _so_ much fucking blue, with bright lime-green leaves and a couple of randomly placed red and orange flowers— it was positively _perfect_. Kuroo holds the shirt up against his chest in an act of drama rather than purpose, because he’d obviously already checked the tag and _knows_ it’s in his size.

With a raised eyebrow, he turns towards Bokuto and poses.

The thumbs up he receives is enough of a confirmation, but when Bokuto looks down at his own shirt, now stretched snug across his chest, Kuroo _knows_ the deal is set.

They both give a small nod in mutual understanding, and Kuroo darts off to the checkout.

Taking a slow sip of his drink—a well-deserved and frankly _overpriced_ matcha crème frappe—Kuroo fidgets with his sunglasses and drags them down over his eyes, quickly blocking out the incoming sun as everyone steps out of the mall.

He _almost_ misses the disgusted scoff that comes from beside him, an indignant noise that is so easily recognizable as the one, _and only_ , Tsukishima Kei.

Kuroo turns to look at him with a knowing smirk.

“What’s up?” He asks.

Tsukki groans, sounding genuinely exasperated, and then waves his hand dismissively. He takes a few steps backwards and Kuroo spins around to follow the movement, watching in amusement as Tsukki back-steps around Kuroo and ends up beside Akaashi, on the far right of the group. _As far away from Kuroo as possible._

He forces the best pout he can manage to avoid bursting out into laughter.

“C’mon, what’s your deal Tsukki?”

Tsukishima leans forward past Akaashi, just enough to look over at Kuroo. There’s a tiny hint of a smile tugging at his lips, an expression Kuroo has learnt to recognize after spending so long agonizing over whether Tsukishima is _serious_ or not about certain things he says, or if the sarcastic edge to his voice is genuine.

“I’d rather not be seen with you when you’re dressed…” he pauses, throwing his hand out and gesturing up and down, “like _that_.”

Kuroo, as hard as this is becoming, keeps up the charade. He peers down at his body while feigning confusion, casually skimming past his shirt and shrugging when he finds nothing out of the ordinary.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

He gets a huff of suppressed laughter from Akaashi but no response from Tsukki, so Kuroo chalks this up to a win on his side; another metaphorical point in the ‘teasing Tsukishima’ bag.

“We look so good, man!” Bokuto hollers, giving Kuroo a punch on the arm that was most definitely _intended_ to be soft.

Kuroo looks over to his right, rubbing his arm gently as he glances down at Bokuto’s awfully-amazing shirt, and lets out a short laugh. He takes another sip of his drink, tugs at the hem of his ugly _matching_ shirt, and smiles wide before replying.

“Yeah, we sure do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yknow i actually wanted to draw bokuto n kuroo in their rad shirts but im lazy so maybe i'll eventually get to it.. ofc anyone else is welcome too (pls show me if you do oh my god)
> 
> as always thanks for joining me in another episode of fic hell and feel free to hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/transtsukki)!! <3


	4. thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s comfort in the change of pace, in the warm weather and the bright sun, the smell of the ocean and the soft sand brushing against his feet. It makes him feel good for once, the serotonin starting a slow but steady flow into parts of his brain he didn’t even know existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic tags were updated to coincide with this chapter so a small tw for a very vague singular mention of attempted suicide. its implied and not at all descriptive but just to be safe!! <3

Kuroo lets out a groan as the heat bores down on him, sweltering and humid and just _gross_ , his tank-top sticking to his skin despite shaking it loose every few seconds. His skin feels hot to the touch, fingers almost burning when they brush against his bare stomach.

“Did everyone remember to put sunscreen on?” He asks as he stares distractedly at his fingertips.

Akaashi laughs and it quickly snaps him out of his heat-induced daze. God _damn_ Bokuto for insisting on coming to the beach on such a disgustingly hot day.

“Yes _dad_ ,” Akaashi mumbles, and Kuroo simply sticks his tongue out in response, a little petulant but _whatever_. Next time he wants to check in on his friends and remind them to stay healthy, he won’t— okay, he _totally_ will because he’s a nice person and can’t stop himself from caring too much.

Bokuto starts to run off ahead of them—how he manages to pick up speed and actually run properly while wearing sandals, Kuroo isn’t too sure—throwing his arms up into the air and subsequently throwing his towel up too. Akaashi catches it aimlessly in a casual action that suggest he’s _far_ too used to catching things suddenly flung by Bokuto.

He drapes it over his shoulder as Bokuto spins around excitedly.

“Come on!” He yells, voice loud like he was standing right next to Kuroo and not several feet away, “let’s swim!”

He turns back to the ocean, feet _surely_ hitting the water’s edge now, and Akaashi lets out a quiet chuckle before starting to slowly walk towards his boyfriend.

Kuroo tugs slightly at the hem of Akaashi’s shirt, a lazy attempt at gaining his attention but Kuroo also doesn’t feel the need to raise his voice, and Akaashi will get that.

“Remind Bokuto to stay inside the barriers, I’m not anticipating a jellyfish attack during our vacation,” he says seriously.

Tsukishima giggles at that, genuine and carefree, and then gently bumps his shoulder against Kuroo’s.

“Bokuto’s a _grown-up_ , Kuroo. I’m sure he can handle himself just fine,” he comments, smirk evident in his tone.

Akaashi just shrugs, though Kuroo can notice the hint of a similar grin tugging at the corner of his lips. He and Tsukki are way too similar sometimes, always in-tune with what the other seems to be thinking, and they spend _far_ too much time whispering in private for Kuroo’s liking. It’s weirdly ominous. Like, out of everyone, Tsukki and Keiji certainly seem to be the most capable of getting away with murder.

“He’ll be fine,” Akaashi says, then pauses and holds out the bag in his hands, “can we leave our stuff with the two of you?”

Kuroo nods, happy to help despite his secret reservations about his friends being murderers, and takes the bag from Akaashi’s hands. He carefully puts it on one shoulder—usually careless with his own stuff, but not wanting to throw around someone else’s belongings—and then gives a small wave as Akaashi jogs to catch up with Bokuto, who is already _knee-deep_ in the sea as he splashes around happily.

Giving a small sigh, Kuroo takes a slow look around the beach in a vain attempt of finding somewhere suitable to sit, coming to the quick decision that the spot they’re standing in is perfect enough; secluded away from _most_ of the bustle of people, and fairly quiet save for the typical outdoors ambience of kids shouting and playing.

He turns to find Tsukki already sat down, with his knees pulled up against his chest and his towel flat beneath him, laid out perfectly— the soft-blue colour a comfortable contrast against the white sand and the light tone of Tsukishima’s skin.

Kuroo gets to work setting his own towel down before he can let the distant thought of ‘Tsukishima with a tan’ catch up to him. Also, he just wants to hurry up and sit down because his feet are starting to hurt, like the old-man he truly is.

When he finally sits, he drops Akaashi’s bag onto an empty segment of his towel and then lets out a content hum. The heat is still blistering, but he thinks he might be getting used to it by now, either that or his precautionary measure of _dousing_ himself in sunscreen was useless and he’s too burnt to feel the sun.

Unlikely, but irrelevant regardless, because as he crosses his bare legs and leans back on his palms, Kuroo feels _at ease_. No amount of sticky hot weather can ruin the pure comfort that comes with being outside in the sun, cool breeze occasionally hitting his skin and ruffling his hair, the faint scent of salty seawater reminding him just where he is.

He _could_ look out at the beach and appreciate the beautiful view, maybe take the rare opportunity to go swimming in the actual ocean, but who is he kidding? Kuroo decides to turn his head and look over at the _other_ beautiful view, the one sitting right beside him— arguably the _better_ view.

Tsukishima is, unsurprisingly, as quiet as he usually is. He still has his legs pulled up to his chest, arms folded on his knees and resting his chin atop all of that. Tsukki has always been _gangly_ —tall, somehow even taller than Kuroo but only by an inch or two; long legs that _absolutely_ do something for Kuroo—but he suits it, it looks good on him.

He’s looking straight ahead, so Kuroo can only see his profile, but _fuck_.

There’s a soft expression settled on his face, something relaxed and gentle, and the way the sun is hitting him has all of Kuroo’s attention drawn to the almost-invisible freckles dotted high along Tsukishima’s cheeks; a few sprinkled across the bridge of his cute, round nose.

His eyes are peaceful and serene as he stares out at the sea, and his hair moves only slightly with the wind, the tufts too short to be blown properly— something which Kuroo is mildly jealous of, considering that his hair looks the way it does, _always_.

Tsukki is wearing this t-shirt that Kuroo hasn’t seen before, short-sleeved and white with navy, almost-black stripes. Kuroo can’t help but think he looks kinda like a sailor. It’s _adorable_.

In fact, he obviously finds _everything_ about Tsukishima to be absolutely adorable, and Kuroo quickly feels his face becoming way too warm from something that he doesn’t think is the sun, so he forces his gaze back towards the beach.

Only a short distance away, he can see Bokuto splashing through a shallow area of the sea alongside a few kids, throwing a volleyball around— _of course_ —and laughing like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Kuroo grins wide and looks around for Akaashi, finding him not too far away as he strolls along the shoreline; pants rolled up at the ankle, just enough so that the tide doesn’t touch the fabric, and he occasionally bends down to pick up a seashell and inspect it with a small smile.

Kuroo feels something stir deep in his stomach, something unknown and weird, and the smile slowly fades from his face as the sinking feeling gets heavier. It bubbles up, rising from his stomach and crawling up into his chest, clawing at his lungs and settling around his heart and _oh, great_ , so _this_ is what he’s dealing with now.

It was inevitable; the depression, anxiety, _whatever-the-fuck_. No amount of sunshine could fend off the nagging feeling of sadness, nor could it stop Kuroo’s brain from kicking into overdrive and suddenly sending his thoughts racing at a mile a minute.

He stares straight ahead but doesn’t really _look_ at anything, his eyes settled on the rhythmic rise-and-fall of the waves but not at all taking it in.

He feels his mouth move on autopilot.

“Hey, Tsukishima.”

A conversation was a bad choice, but it’s happening now. Sometimes Kuroo likes to talk through this feeling, and it’s easy with someone like Kenma who’s been around Kuroo his entire life— someone who knows the right things to say and knows not to get freaked out by the weird, slightly dangerous things Kuroo might say.

There’s a sudden lull, the silence lasting a few seconds too many; something that wouldn’t bother Kuroo at any other time, but now, with the anxiety threatening to burst out of his chest at any moment like that one scene from _Alien_ — it was quickly becoming a problem.

He continues talking, if only to fill the gap and try to get his own thoughts to shut the fuck up.

“Have you ever thought about the future?” He asks, and then turns towards Tsukishima as he awaits a response.

Tsukki is looking at him weirdly, confused, his eyebrows furrowed and mouth drawn into a slight pout. It’s to be expected, but he instantly softens his expression upon catching Kuroo’s eyes and then tilts his head a miniscule amount to the side.

“Sometimes, I guess,” he muses, tone pensive, “why?”

His stare is inquisitive, and Kuroo takes in a shallow breath.

It’s a lie to say he has to continue this conversation, because he _doesn’t_. Tsukki would understand if he dropped it and moved on, gave a shrug and said he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. But it feels _unfair_ , and Kuroo would feel worse about himself, and he should maybe start to consider that his other best friends (besides Kenma) are allowed to know about his thoughts too.

“I haven’t. Ever thought about the future, that is,” Kuroo fidgets with the hem of his shorts as he glances down, avoiding eye contact before he continues, “it’s hard to try and plan your life when you didn’t expect to even _get_ this far.”

He lets go of the loose thread he’s been pulling at, dropping it onto the towel below and watching it instantly blend in with all the other fibres.

“When I was younger, I tried to—” he pauses after realising where that sentence was headed, and lets himself breathe deeply for a second. “Nevermind.”

His heart is racing, and his lungs feel tight like they’re set on a timer to explode any second now.

As if it’ll help ease his chest pains—or perhaps another minor distraction from the word-vomit he just spewed everywhere—Kuroo stretches his legs out in front of him and ignores the faint pop of his knee joints.

The roar of the ocean sounds louder than ever.

Maybe he should get this over with, let it all spill out so at least he’ll be free from this horrible little situation he foolishly put himself in. He lets out a shaky breath and opens his mouth to allow the rest of the words to tumble out.

“I’m… twenty-six now, and I’m just not sure what I’m supposed to be _doing_ with my life, y’know. It’s difficult, sometimes.”

 _Sometimes_ means _all_ the time, but he doesn’t need to add that on for Tsukki to get it.

He doesn’t dare move or even look over, the typical _shame_ of talking about his feelings seeping in right on time, but then he hears a light huff and feels the tiniest brush of warm skin against his arm as Tsukishima shuffles closer to him.

“I don’t think anyone knows what they’re _supposed_ to be doing, Kuroo,” he says, tone as casual as ever but the gentle smile on his face letting Kuroo know that he’s genuine in what he’s saying.

It’s short, simple and to the point, yet it knocks the breath out of Kuroo regardless.

It’s _perfect_ , such a Tsukishima-like answer and it’s just what Kuroo needed to hear, the space around his lungs opening up as he feels the air flow comfortably through him again.

It feels like the pieces are finally starting to fall into place for him. They’re pieces of an unknown puzzle currently, as if he’s lost the lid of the box showing him what it is he’s supposed to be putting together, but he sorts the corner pieces and the similar-looking colours and then pushes it aside for now.

The thoughts in his head quickly settle down, his heart slows to a normal pace, his hands stop shaking.

And this— _this_ is why Kuroo came here. There’s comfort in the change of pace, in the warm weather and the bright sun, the smell of the ocean and the soft sand brushing against his feet. It makes him feel good for once, the serotonin starting a slow but steady flow into parts of his brain he didn’t even know existed.

But it’s not permanent, none of it ever is, and he _knows_ that. He’s been here before, sat in a brand-new place without even knowing what time it is, the thrill of it all tricking him into thinking he’s finally found happiness; at least for a day or two.

He never has, and then it suddenly leaves him low, lower than he’s ever felt before. He’s spent too many days dwelling on his impulsivity and its connection to his happiness, wasting his time chasing after days of fleeting bliss and winding up sad and alone at the end of it.

 _Alone_ , Kuroo thinks, alone is a big part of it all. Because sat here now, with Bokuto and Akaashi having fun in the sea, and with Tsukishima so close to his side, this isn’t comfort. It _is_ , but not really— this isn’t the same feeling of comfort he gets from staying in bed all day, a feeling that makes him happy for a short while until fading back into his usual apathetic melancholy, no.

This—the way Tsukishima bumps their shoulders together with a barely-there smile, something hidden and private and partially on show for Kuroo only—this is _reassurance_. This is the feeling that everything will be okay, one day, at some point; that all of Kuroo’s doubts and fears are valid, that Tsukishima _understands_ him.

This is _stability_.

 _No-one knows what they’re supposed to be doing_.

Kuroo certainly doesn’t know what he’s _supposed_ to be doing, but when he shifts his head slightly to the side to sneak another glance at Tsukishima, he thinks he’s perfectly okay with whatever it is that he’s _actually_ doing.

Tsukishima turns away, fidgeting and tucking a strand of short hair behind his ear—tinged red, but Kuroo blames it on the sun—and when he turns back he’s sporting that same unknown expression from a few days ago. It’s softer this time, and _almost_ decipherable, but Kuroo still can’t put his finger on it and— ah.

While distracted, his brain must have been working on something else, because the last piece of the puzzle slots right into place with an audible click, and Kuroo stands back to peer at the completed image; the smiling face of Tsukishima Kei looking back at him.

It comes as no surprise really, the gentle yet overwhelming joy that washes over him when he thinks about this revelation— thinks about Tsukishima.

Kuroo Tetsurou feels at peace when around Tsukishima Kei, and _sure_ he feels the butterflies flutter wildly whenever the guy laughs, and the knot in his stomach tighten involuntarily when he catches Tsukki exhibit a rare wide grin, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t ever considered the pure _ease_ he feels when with him.

There’s something in the way his brain seems to shut off and his negative thoughts go right along with it, life coming to a calm standstill as Kuroo basks in the not-at-all-sudden realisation that he’s in love with— oh my _god_ , that he’s in _love_ with Tsukishima Kei.

And it’s not a _fix_ to his problems, it’s unfortunately not a cure for the chronic depression that has plagued him for tens of years now. But it’s _something_.

It’s a start.

He looks out at the beach in front of him, at the white sands and sparkling blue of the ocean, and he lets out a genuine laugh as he watches Bokuto sneak up on Akaashi and nearly knock him over with a powerful splash.

When Tsukishima bumps their shoulders together for what feels like the fiftieth time that day, or the fiftieth time that _hour_ , and when Bokuto comes sprinting towards them with a pissed-looking Akaashi following close behind, Kuroo can’t hold back the smile that breaks out onto his face.

After everything, he thinks he can finally let himself go for a while, and with a small sigh, Kuroo Tetsurou allows himself to feel nothing but genuine happiness for maybe the first time in his life.

On their way back home—or back to their _temporary_ home for the week, though Kuroo feels his chest tighten at the thought of a home with Tsukishima—Kuroo had asked a simple “ _do we have anything to eat?_ ” and somehow sparked an uproar.

Bokuto stopped towelling at Akaashi’s hair to laugh, and offered a genuine “I don’t think so, Keiji’s attempt at cooking last night left us with pretty much nothing.”

Kuroo had grinned as Tsukki muffled his laughter, and Akaashi spun round _whiplash fast_ to point at Bokuto, a few water droplets from his hair hitting Kuroo in the face.

“I wouldn’t have had to start over so many times if _someone_ didn’t keep distracting me and letting everything burn—”

“We should have just let Kuroo cook,” Bokuto threw his hands up defensively as he joked around, “at least I know I can trust him.”

Akaashi had scowled at Kuroo for that, for the jab he didn’t even make but was _involuntarily_ part of, and Kuroo would have come up with a response if he wasn’t so intrigued by Tsukishima’s raised eyebrows.

“You can cook?” Tsukki asked, voice a little higher than usual, and Kuroo tilted his head slightly.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “you didn’t know that?”

Tsukki shook his head, opening his mouth to speak again but getting cut off as Bokuto insisted on eating at a nearby restaurant, enthusiastically tugging at Kuroo and Tsukishima to follow him. The conversation dropped, and Kuroo let himself be dragged along.

It had been fun— the food was pretty good, not as good as what Kuroo could do himself (not to _brag_ , or anything) but it was a nice change of pace; Bokuto was _extremely_ lively company and as entertaining as always, and the way that Tsukishima would kick at Kuroo’s feet under the table any time he made a bad joke gave him a feeling he’ll never really shake.

But now, back at the accommodation and so _full_ , Kuroo is positively exhausted after such a long day. Not that it was a bad day overall, despite his minor breakdown, the day was far from awful; just full of emotions that can often leave his brain feeling a little worn out.

He lets out a large yawn, slightly dramatic, and _okay_ , he’s feeling more than a _little_ worn out.

He quickly flops down onto the available sofa, with Bokuto and Akaashi sprawled out and being disgustingly cute as they cuddle all over the other one.

Kicking his legs out, he lets them hang off the edge of the too-small couch, one of the many struggles of being too tall; it has its benefits, like being tall is somehow instantly ticking a box of ‘attractive’, because every woman he’s ever dated has swooned over his height— though with the miniscule gap of difference that Tsukki has over him, Kuroo can definitely start to see the appeal of a taller man.

Tsukki pokes at his calves, a single jab, and Kuroo blinks up at him.

“Move, I wanna sit,” he says lightly, and Kuroo grins.

He turns away, crossing his arms over his chest as he purposely looks in the opposite direction and even contemplates _whistling_ for a second. There’s another prod at his legs followed quickly by a tired huff.

“Budge it, Kuroo. You _know_ I won’t hesitate to sit on you.”

His instinctual response is a thought of “ _please do_ ”, to which Kuroo gets the overwhelming urge to smack himself for something so absolutely ridiculous. He puts a stop to that line of thought immediately and shifts his legs, grumpily dropping them off the couch to free up some space.

Tsukishima sits down in the empty gap and Kuroo, in an act of lazy retaliation, swings his legs back up and drops them heavily across Tsukki’s lap. Not like he seems to mind that much, if the way he adjusts to it and rests his arms _over_ Kuroo’s legs is anything to go by.

Kuroo listens to the upbeat chatter between Bokuto and Akaashi, their voices energetic and indicative that they’re far from tired, and he lets his head loll back onto the armrest of the couch as Tsukki occasionally chimes into the conversation with a single lazy comment here and there. It’s easy to tell that he’s tired too, and Kuroo’s sorta glad he’s not the only one for once.

The room is too warm and the couch is _really_ uncomfortable, but with Tsukishima’s fidgeting hands kept busy—drawing small patterns and tiny circles onto Kuroo’s bare shins, a comforting sensation—it doesn’t take long for his heavy eyelids to finally close.

When he eventually wakes up, he doesn’t know what time it is. Early, he assumes, because the room is dark and quiet and through his sleepy half-closed eyes he can tell the couch opposite is empty.

Or it’s actually really late; a bright line of moonlight cast across the floor and walls, peeking in from a slight gap in the blinds that someone had forgotten to fully close.

His neck is _killing him_ , one of the many drawbacks of falling asleep on a tiny sofa, and as he tries to shift around to get more comfortable, he suddenly becomes hyperaware of the unknown weight pinning him down. He lifts up, as best as he can manage, and tries to squint through the darkness.

The absence of Akaashi and Bokuto had convinced Kuroo that it was late—or early, it’s technically the same thing _why does it even matter_ —and that they’d gone to bed; it doesn’t explain why curled up at the bottom end of the sofa, still with Kuroo’s legs stretched out over his thighs, rests a peacefully sleeping Tsukishima Kei.

He’s slumped to the side, relaxed, half leaning on Kuroo and half just leaning back against the couch, but _still_. Kuroo can feel his arms draped lazily across his lower legs, heavy with sleep, a testament to the fact that Tsukki hadn’t moved at all from his previous position— oh.

Kuroo frowns. Had he stopped Tsukishima from getting up and going to bed? From getting to a more comfortable place than a shitty sofa, trapped in by some asshole’s legs?

Tsukki hums then, a subconscious noise of comfort as he falls more and literally snuggles up against Kuroo’s side and— _no_ , Kuroo thinks, _no, he_ definitely _would have just pushed my legs aside if he wanted to leave._

A warmth overcomes him at the concept of Tsukishima willingly falling asleep next to him, _with him_ , just as content and comfortable as Kuroo is. It’s a terribly dangerous thought, something that could easily get to his ego and start his brain rolling on a track that it really shouldn’t— like the possibility that Tsukishima likes him back.

It’s a baseless accusation, of course. After knowing him for so long now, Kuroo had quickly discovered that Tsukki wasn’t as avoidant as he pretended to be; often leaning against him when he’s tired, not flinching away from Kuroo throwing an arm round his shoulders, and even laughing as they link arms together while walking down the street.

He’s just a surprisingly touchy kinda guy, and Kuroo isn’t going to delude himself with the false belief that this is potentially more than it is: nothing. He _wants_ it to be more, _duh_ , he wants that more than anything, but he’ll only start the theory when he has enough viable evidence to do so.

It’ll just end up destroying him if he gets too attached to something that isn’t actually there, so this is another reminder to his brain to _cut that shit out_.

Rather than lying on a tiny sofa in the dark and getting weirdly emotional at god-knows-what-time, Kuroo opts for what is probably the better option, and allows himself to drift back to sleep instead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this chapter is double the length of the last one and Yeah. yeah. chapters are gonna be like increasing in length from here on out.. only a tiny bit! but yay!! more content
> 
> thanks for reading and feel free to hmu on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/transtsukki) <3


	5. friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some people find rain to be relaxing, or _romantic_ even. Kuroo finds it to be saddening; melancholic and uncomforting in a way he can’t exactly place. The noise of the droplets hitting the window only serves as an _annoyance,_ actually, and he can’t even begin to imagine being outside in it. His hair would get fucking _trashed._

The next time Kuroo wakes up, he’s alone. Well, not really; he hears the quiet chatter in the room, whispers that are slightly too forced and like _Bokuto_ doesn’t know how to ever be quiet, but he feels the soft fabric of the sofa beneath his legs instead of the warmth of another person— instead of Tsukki.

He doesn’t want to open his eyes, the bright light already stinging his closed eyelids, so he shuffles around and nuzzles into the blanket that definitely wasn’t there when he went to sleep. It’s placed snugly over him, thick and heavy and soft, and Kuroo lets out a content sigh as he happily wiggles around underneath it.

He cracks an eye open just a _tiny_ bit so he can peek around the room without alerting anyone to the fact that he’s actually awake. If he gets to cheat a few extra seconds of peace and quiet, he’s definitely gonna take that chance.

Tsukki is sat on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest and his back against the couch, close enough that Kuroo could easily reach out and play with his hair; not like he would, he has _excellent_ self-control _thank you very much_ , but the proximity combined with the warm lighting and the soft smile on Tsukishima’s face— ugh. It takes everything in Kuroo not to just combust on the spot, or maybe he could pull the blanket over his face and scream into it.

This is fucking _hell_ , feelings _suck_. Why did he do this to himself?

He tries not to let it get to him, these _disgusting_ little feelings, but sometimes things are just overwhelming in the worst ways and he can’t even explain it. There’s not an explanation for the way Kuroo feels sometimes, no good answer to the question of “ _why?_ ”, he just feels it silently sneak up on him and then suddenly consume him all at once. It’s a quick feeling, instantly weighing him down and clawing at his insides.

Maybe it has something to do with the excessive social interaction, things have been busy the past few days— alright, not _extremely_ busy or anything, but Kuroo isn’t used to being around people for such long periods of time; except maybe Kenma, though he doesn’t exactly count, he’s usually so quiet it’s like he’s not even there and Kuroo loves that about him.

It could be that, or it could be nothing at all. Kuroo just feels _bad_ , and it sucks.

He forces a loud yawn, probably louder than necessary and very obviously fake, but it should let everyone know he’s _genuinely_ awake now. Not like he has been for the past fifteen minutes or anything, overthinking his entire life _as usual._

Shuffling upright, he pulls the blanket with him and keeps it wrapped tight around himself, less of an object of warmth and more for comfort now. He blinks a few times in a vain attempt at getting the sleep out of his eyes.

Tsukishima, feeling the tug of the blanket or perhaps just the slight movement of the couch, turns around slowly and then offers a small smile.

“Good morning, _lazy_.”

“Huh?” Kuroo stares almost dumbly, “what time is it?”

His voice is thick with sleep, still hoarse despite the confused and groggy tone to it.

Tsukishima laughs quietly as he slides his phone off the table in front of him. Kuroo takes a little _tiny_ peek as he unlocks it, just to see his home screen; expecting something aesthetic maybe, like a scenery photo that Tsukki had took himself, but also kinda hoping it was something nerdy and dinosaur related, or maybe a movie poster from one of his favourite films—

In the split second Tsukki unlocks his phone, Kuroo catches a glimpse of a selfie of Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, and decides that he much prefers that to something dinosaur-themed. How _cute_.

“Eleven thirty, roughly,” Tsukishima’s smile is almost _smug_ as he puts his phone back down, “we haven’t really come up with any major plans for today—”

“We’re going to a park!” Bokuto interjects, excitedly.

Tsukki huffs out a breath, something akin to a little laugh, and Akaashi does the same as he casually runs a hand through Bo’s hair. The domesticity of the action is disgustingly cute and Kuroo finds himself distracted for a few minutes while watching their lowkey public display of affection.

He quickly notices expectant eyes on him, awaiting an answer or a suggestion, and he thinks it over for a second. Park, outdoors, people, socialising— he’s already come to a decision pretty quickly.

He knows he should probably go out regardless, that maybe he’d start to enjoy it once he was actually there because that happens to him a _lot_ , constantly being dragged out to social events despite his mood and ending up enjoying it in the end— but he feels a headache coming on and the physical symptoms of anxiety start to turn in his stomach, leaving him feeling nauseous and weirdly empty at the same time.

Maybe just this _once_ it’s okay to skip a step in his routine. Self-care and all that, right?

“I think I’m gonna pass, actually,” he says, and shrugs as casually as he can manage.

Bokuto frowns, his signature pout, and then snaps out of it after a few seconds, as if the action was involuntary. Knowing Koutarou, it most likely was— his mood switches are hard to get used to at first, but after so many years of it, Kuroo can notice them in a blink of an eye.

“Okay dude!” Bo smiles warmly, “feel better soon!”

Akaashi also smiles at him, nodding his head in agreement, and Kuroo gives a small nod back.

Tsukishima is looking at him strangely, but if Kuroo had to make an assumption he would probably say it was a look of _concern_.

Tsukki’s oddly cautious when he speaks.

“Are you sure?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

Kuroo blinks at him, eyes widening a second as he takes in the upturned eyebrows and the soft frown, and then breaks into a small grin.

He’s always been _fairly_ okay at reading people, and with Tsukishima it’s not that hard to pick up on the smaller questions, not so much “ _are you sure about not going?_ ”, instead taking it as “ _are you sure you’re okay?”._ It makes his heart flutter wildly in his chest, but he tries to ignore it in favour of acting like a normal human being.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about me, Tsukki,” he shrugs, and smiles at Tsukki’s over-dramatic, forced eye-roll, “I’ll get some grocery shopping done, or something. The fridge is still empty after Akaashi’s disaster—”

Akaashi groans loud enough to cut Kuroo off and immediately starts pushing at Bokuto, forcing him to walk ahead as he mutters a quiet “ _come on, let’s go already_ ”. Kuroo just laughs as he watches the two of them leave, Bokuto waving obnoxiously before he’s shoved unceremoniously out the front door.

Tsukishima stalls for a second, gaze pensive, and then he throws his hand up in a small wave.

“See you later,” he says softly.

Kuroo smiles, returning the wave with a similarly quiet “ _see ya_ ”.

The second Tsukishima leaves, closing the door gently behind himself, Kuroo lets out a deep breath that he didn’t even realise he was holding.

Glancing around the lounge, the loneliness decides to let its presence finally be known, and it sinks into Kuroo’s mind instantly. He drags his hands down his face, digs the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees nothing but bright colours and fuzzy patterns, and then lets out a huff.

The sudden silence is _deafening_.

He groans as he throws the blanket off himself, clambering to his feet and immediately walking towards the bedroom. Noise, he needs _noise_ , literally anything to fill the quiet before his mind starts to provide not-at-all-helpful thoughts that’ll fill the silence for him.

Tsukishima’s white headphones sit on the bedside table, cord wrapped neatly around the band, and it’s tempting, he knows Tsukki wouldn’t mind, but Kuroo has his own pair. They’re red, _how typical of him_ , except he didn’t choose them— Tsukki bought them for him as a birthday gift last year and Kuroo hasn’t stopped using them since.

He’d be surprised that they aren’t broke yet, or dead, with how much he uses them, but it’s not at all surprising when he also takes care of them better than anything else in his life. In fact, he probably looks after these headphones better than he looks after _himself_.

He slips them on, feeling the band push his hair down and probably making it look worse than it _ever_ has, but when he hits shuffle on his music library, he finds that he doesn’t really care anymore.

The upbeat pop of _Perfume_ hit his ears, and with something sufficiently happy to plug the dangerous silence in his head, he has the new-found motivation to actually do what he said he was going to do— and what _really_ does need to be done, despite any nagging thought in his head that he could just avoid it.

_Right._

Kuroo throws a jacket on, dropping his phone into one pocket while swiping the keys off the bedside table and then quickly tossing them into his other pocket.

After a final quick pat-down, an instant double check because his memory _sucks_ —headphones, phone, keys, an appropriate outfit to go outside in—he huffs out a short breath and then nods to himself. _Let’s go_.

Standing back in the accommodation, Kuroo gives a tired sigh after long-returning from his brief trip out into the world.

It’s been a few hours since he got back and unpacked the groceries he managed to scrounge from a nearby _konbini_ , efforts lazy but still trying to pick up enough food that appealed to everyone’s specific tastes.

He had settled on a few ready meals, some snack-foods like onigiri and chips, a few premade bento’s, but also a few genuine ingredients to make food with; nothing major, just some staples like rice and eggs. He could figure _something_ out, anything is better than when Keiji tries to cook.

Forcing himself to go out today despite feeling shitty gave his mood a slight boost, a little kick of “ _you did it!_ ”, but now with the rain pouring down and droplets hitting hard against the window pane, Kuroo unfortunately feels that familiar sinking feeling in his gut.

It’s been another couple of hours since the guys got back from their day out. Kuroo had last seen Bokuto and Akaashi cuddling in the lounge, an activity which seems to be becoming commonplace, they spend a lot of their free time here just being cute and domestic— something which he’s kinda already entirely used to from being around them back at home.

He’s currently sat in the kitchen though, perched lazily on a stool that he pulled towards the counter so he could sit and stare out the window. There’s not much of a view, it’s late and it’s dark and it’s _raining_ , which is something that Kuroo has always hated.

Some people find rain to be relaxing, or _romantic_ even. Kuroo finds it to be saddening; melancholic and uncomforting in a way he can’t exactly place. The noise of the droplets hitting the window only serves as an _annoyance,_ actually, and he can’t even begin to imagine being outside in it. His hair would get fucking _trashed_.

Tired from a hard day of dealing with his own thoughts, Kuroo stops tracing the tracks of rain on the window and instead drops his head into his hands to let out a hefty sigh.

He wishes he could just be _better_ ; not have to worry about whether his mood is affecting the people around him, not feel like a problem all the time just by existing, not have to think this stupid shit while being on fucking _vacation_.

He quickly runs through a list of things he usually does when he feels his worst, a lot of which are just reminders to himself that he’s a living human being who needs food and water to survive— sometimes his breakdowns can be easily solved by just… having a drink, as if his brain decided to make him think about dying all day just because he was dehydrated. _Ha ha, thanks depression_.

Throwing ‘sleep’ out the window because it’s too late for a nap but too early to go to bed, he eventually zones in on ‘listen to music’ and ‘eat something sweet’, pulling out his phone and casually slotting it into the portable dock on the countertop (belonging to Bokuto, if the obnoxiously-coloured owl stickers are anything to go by).

He hits the shuffle button and adjusts the volume, loud enough to drown out his thoughts and keep him busy but not too loud that it disrupts the others, and after a few seconds the music begins to play out into the air.

It’s _instantly_ soothing, and Kuroo grins subconsciously as he swings the fridge door open. He doesn’t really need to even look, knowing the contents inside and out considering he was the one who put them in there, but he pushes a few things around as he ponders what to make— eggs, milk… _yeah_ , _okay_.

Humming along to his music, he pulls out all the ingredients needed for pancakes and gets to quick work making a batter mixture while he waits for a pan to heat up.

With the gradually-increasing volume of his humming over the music, Kuroo almost misses the noise of the kitchen door opening and closing, but he _doesn’t_ , and turns around just in time to watch Tsukki climb up onto the countertop next to the stove.

He starts to swing his legs casually, and Kuroo laughs lightly as he looks up at him.

“Hey Tsukki.”

“Pancakes, at _this_ time of night?” He puts a hand over his chest in mock-offense and raises an eyebrow.

Kuroo just grins, pouring some of the batter mixture straight into the pan— _who needs a spoon or a ladle?_ —and watching it bubble for a few seconds before turning back to Tsukishima.

“A good pick-me-up, wouldn’t you agree?” Kuroo picks up a wooden spoon from the counter and points it accusingly, “c’mon, with that sweet tooth of yours, you _know_ I’m right.”

Tsukki just gives him a completely emotionless look followed by a sarcastic and deadpan “ _ha ha_ ”, and Kuroo shrugs with a small smirk.

He looks back down at the pan and then steps back an inch to dramatically flip it over. He catches it flawlessly, not at all like it’s a frequently practiced skill or anything, and excitedly awaits a reaction from Tsukishima.

The one he gets is a small and forced applause, lasting only a few seconds and like Tsukki is trying to stay as blasé as he possibly can despite that fucking _amazing_ trick, clearly not wanting to give in to his true feelings of just how incredible it was.

It’s okay, Kuroo knows deep down that his skills are appreciated, whether Tsukki wants to comment or not.

It only takes another couple of seconds of prolonged eye contact—mockingly glaring at each other—before Tsukki snaps first and looks almost sheepishly down at the pan.

“Can I have some?” He asks, and Kuroo laughs loudly.

 _God, he’s adorable_.

He slides the cooked pancake out of the pan and onto a nearby plate, setting it aside and pouring another round of batter back into the hot pan.

“Yeah, of course,” he suddenly remembers his shopping trip and smiles warmly up at Tsukishima, “I bought you some strawberries earlier, actually.”

He’s about to continue talking, maybe consider the pros and cons of potential topping choices for his own sweet treat, when his music fades out and a new song starts to play.

The opening claps along to the beat startle him, and he’s a little too loud when he yells an excited “ _wait, hang on, I love this song_!”.

Now, Kuroo is hardly one for theatrics, despite what his friends might say—definitely ignoring the video evidence probably stored on all of their phones—but he’s in a weird bad mood and it’s raining outside and he’s on _vacation_ and he’s going to have fun, dammit!

What’s the harm in a little singing and dancing, an attempt at making himself feel better?

It takes him approximately a fraction of a millisecond to grab the long-forgotten wooden spoon off the countertop. He points it at Tsukishima, getting an amused eye-roll in response, and then, _of course_ , uses it as a stand-in for a microphone. Like he said, _totally_ not one for theatrics.

Obnoxiously dancing around the small kitchen, singing a little too loudly and putting on a performance like he’s done this way too many times before; Kuroo instantly feels his mood shift, if not due to his own actions then at least partly thanks to Tsukishima.

He claps a few times to the beat of the song, the spoon in his hands muting the volume of the claps, and then quickly spins round and stops himself in front of Tsukki— still sitting lazily atop the counter, foot kicking softly in rhythm, but his arms folded tightly across his chest in disapproval despite the smug grin on his face.

Kuroo suddenly gets an awful, terrible, absolutely _amazing_ idea.

With a devilish smirk, he throws the spoon down onto the nearest surface and ignores the clattering as he quickly motions with his hands.

“Come on,” he says, and almost laughs at the immediate shift of Tsukishima’s facial expression.

He blinks wildly, dropping the smug smile and instead widening in his eyes in surprise. He throws his hands up defensively.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” he begins, voice quick and rambling, “Kuroo, I don’t—”

Kuroo interrupts him with a small laugh and then gently grabs at his raised hands, tugging him down off the countertop and grinning when his footing stumbles as he lands.

This is, again, the worst idea of all time.

Except it’s _so_ fucking worth it.

Tsukishima is awkward and hesitant and fumbling in a way that Kuroo hasn’t seen for years; it feels like they’re both in university again, young and naïve, and it’s _surreal_ , in a good way.

He still has a light hold on Tsukki’s hands, so he swings their arms casually as he dances around and tries not to think about how ridiculously gay this is, and how fucking obvious he’s being.

It doesn’t really seem to stop him though, and when Kuroo lets go to mimic some cheesy dance moves he’s seen in varying music videos—using his hands to shoot a fake gun at Tsukki and then winking dramatically—he thinks someone might as well write “ _I’m gay_ ” on his forehead. In permanent marker.

Tsukki lets out a bubbly laugh, covering his mouth with a hand as he turns his face away from Kuroo and smiles. The tips of his ears are tinged pink and Kuroo stumbles. Like, he literally misses a step and almost trips over, because _oh my god, he’s so cute._

The permanent marker needs to make a quick return, because Kuroo wants to maybe start making adjustments to his previously empty ‘Signs that Tsukki likes me back’ list—though he contemplates writing that in pencil, easier to erase—and also because he wants to tack on “— _and I’m in love with you_ ” to the writing on his forehead.

_I’m gay and I’m in love with you and I’m so fucking hopeless and helpless and I need you to know that you’re everything to me._

_Gross_.

He’s having fun though, his previous funky mood dissipating the more he fools around, and Tsukki is having fun too, evident in his shaky laughter and growing smile as Kuroo spins him round.

Despite his continued refusal to contribute, the shake of his head when Kuroo tries to get him to dance without his prompting, Tsukki doesn’t seem to mind all that much when Kuroo decides to ruin his own life and go in for a dip.

He wants to make a joke about it, something cheesy like “ _did you fall for me?_ ”, but he realises that forcing someone to dip doesn’t count as falling and is also probably a little too blatant of a comment. Not at all like _dancing_ ; spinning someone around and then pulling them back towards you so you can dip them down and coincidentally have your hands on their lower back. Nowhere near as blatant, _nope_.

Tsukki only gasps at the suddenness and grabs onto Kuroo’s arms to stabilize himself—a feeling which Kuroo is hyperaware of—but then he _giggles_ and arches a single eyebrow.

“Very fitting move for a pop song,” he says, his voice completely casual and his grip on Kuroo’s biceps easing up but not _leaving_.

Kuroo has to muster up literally all the strength he has in him in order to remain cool, hands maybe starting to sweat with nerves and he hopes that Tsukki can’t feel it _oh my god_ — he offers a nonchalant grin.

“What can I say,” he tilts his head slightly to the side, “I’m a man of many talents.”

Tsukishima rolls his eyes for what seems like the umpteenth time, but it’s a gesture laced with fondness and something so soft that Kuroo wouldn’t care if Tsukki just rolled his eyes at him for all of eternity.

They stay like that for a little while, the song long-faded into a different one, but Kuroo can’t seem to shake out of it or bring himself to move away.

He looks down at Tsukishima, though their proximity is closer than his gay ass can cope with, and is positively _hypnotized_ ; there’s a lazy smile on Tsukki’s face, natural and relaxed, and his half-lidded eyes follow suit; the faint blush splotched innocently along the high points of his cheeks making his almost-invisible freckles just a _smidge_ darker.

Kuroo has never wanted to kiss anyone more than he does right now.

(Except for that other time he wanted to kiss Tsukishima, and the time before that, and then the time before _that_ — the point is, Kuroo has never wanted to kiss _anyone_ as much as he’s ever wanted to kiss Tsukishima Kei.)

A few more seconds pass until Tsukki reaches a hand up to Kuroo’s chest, pushing at him slightly, and Kuroo starts to lean back as he raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Do you…” Tsukishima looks around suspiciously as he speaks, “smell that _burning_?”

Kuroo blinks at him.

Oh shit. _Fuck_.

He widens his eyes almost comically as he panics and instantly lets go of Tsukishima. He doesn’t _drop_ him, they were kinda already both back to standing normally anyways, but he certainly is a little hasty in the way he snaps out of the moment and rushes around the kitchen.

“Shit!” He yells, staring at the smoke starting to billow out of the pan, “Tsukki! The pancakes!”

Tsukishima doesn’t respond, too busy pushing the windows open as far as they can go, so Kuroo quickly turns the stove off and moves the pan away, dropping it into the sink and cringing inwardly at the loud sizzling sound.

He throws his hands up with exasperation, a loud sigh coming out before he can even help himself. He can’t fucking believe he _forgot_ about the goddamn pancakes.

And for so long too, like, they really should have both realised _way_ sooner that the kitchen was about to go up in flames. Kuroo isn’t sure that Akaashi would ever let it go— that Kuroo Tetsurou, the groups local chef, had burned their rented vacation home to the ground because he was too busy flirting.

Did he just get cockblocked ( _relationship-blocked?_ ) by some pancakes? Not like he was gonna make a move anyways, but _fuck_ they were maybe having some sort of moment—

Kuroo hears Tsukishima laugh, a loud, genuinely giddy laugh, and he turns to look over his shoulder at him.

Tsukki is looking down at the pan, at the absolutely _cremated_ remains of what was only their second pancake, with a hand over his mouth in a useless attempt at muffling his giggling.

“A man of many talents,” he starts, tone jokingly smug, “but apparently not cooking. It seems _someone_ is lying about being a good chef.”

Kuroo plays along instantly, spinning around and gasping in mock offense as he raises a hand to his chest and clutches at his shirt. He points a finger accusingly at Tsukishima.

“I _am_ a good chef, Tsukki. One day I’ll prove it to you.”

And wait, okay no, that sorta has date implications behind it and he can’t believe he would say something so _obvious_. Maybe the smoky atmosphere is polluting his already-fucked brain, though it’s not really an excuse when all the smoke left as soon as the windows were opened, and everything is absolutely fine now.

Tsukishima doesn’t seem to notice, or is being a good friend and ignoring the weak and accidental attempt at being chat up, because he simply shrugs as he picks up the _single_ good pancake from the plate.

He rolls it up, taking a small bite— _plain? And cold? Kuroo has so many things to say right now_ —and then grinning as he turns around and walks towards the door.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he shouts back before leaving the kitchen.

Kuroo couldn’t see his face, but he could hear the smile in his voice, and— hang on, slow down, what the _fuck_?

_One day I’ll prove it to you._

_I’m looking forward to it._

He’s looking forward to it?

He’s looking forward to it, and maybe Tsukishima isn’t as dense as Kuroo had hoped he was, and maybe that’s _completely_ okay. Maybe… maybe Tsukishima has feelings for him too, at least a little.

The rain is much louder now with the windows open, and the kitchen reeks of burnt food, but Kuroo throws his hands over his face as the embarrassment settles in and he smiles _wide_. It’s a much-preferred substitute for screaming, or _squealing_ , because he really does feel like a teenager right now.

He also doesn’t feel bad at all anymore, the entire day being quickly forgotten in favour of his current feelings; the anxiety swapped out for a gentle thrum of excitement, of _potential_ ; his face warm and his heart beating steady in his chest; his brain looping Tsukishima’s gentle smiles and soft laughs rather than any of his usual useless thoughts.

Kuroo runs a hand through his hair as he lets out a short, happy laugh.

The rain might be _kinda_ romantic after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8WN0JnAnASY) is the song they dance to because its a banger (ha ha) and its cute. the lyrics are very bittersweet and not at all relevant but i just think kuroo would be the type to listen to daoko so im pushing that in here, but u can also imagine him dancing to any other song, ur favourite song even!! how cute!
> 
> as always thank u and feel free to hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/transtsukki) for anything! <3


	6. saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A guide to getting Tsukishima Kei to forgive you for almost anything, tried and tested by Kuroo Tetsurou; buy him fruit-flavoured drinks or desserts, specifically peach or strawberry, or gift him something cute and/or pink. Bonus points if it’s something dinosaur related, or you could go far-out and buy him stuff relating to his favourite horror series’— maybe Kuroo just buys too many gifts for his friends. It makes sense now why he’s so fucking broke all the time.

The lounge is quiet this morning; the tv is set on a low volume, giving the room a gentle background noise; Bokuto is lying down on one of the couches, an arm thrown over his face as he shuffles and readjusts his legs every so often; Akaashi and Tsukki sitting together on the other sofa, and Kuroo lying on the floor as he aimlessly scrolls through his phone.

It’s a peaceful kind of quiet, like they’re all a _little_ too tired to be loud and are instead happy to just relax in each other’s company. _It’s comforting_ , Kuroo thinks.

He smiles as he lazily double taps at his screen, liking _another_ photo of Kenma’s cats, and then almost jumps when Bokuto lets out a loud huff. _Jesus Christ_.

“Do we have any plans for today?” He asks, tone _restless_ , and Kuroo shakes his head fondly to himself.

 _Of course_. Bokuto is still typical Bokuto, a mixed bag of emotions, either up or down at the flick of a switch; he’s been set to ‘ _up_ ’ for the entire week so far and Kuroo knows that the restlessness is going to quickly send him into a downward spiral if he doesn’t occupy himself soon.

Akaashi, knowing this all too well, sighs out a small “ _no_ ”, and then pauses as he seems to think it over.

“There’s an aquarium here, right?” He glances down at Kuroo as if he has _any_ idea, “we could go there.”

Kuroo notices Tsukki perk up at that, his eyes suddenly lifting from his phone to look at Akaashi with a hint of interest, and Kuroo hides a smile in the sleeve of his hoodie.

He thinks back to all the late-night messages he’s received from Tsukishima on his _super_ bad days, texting him at unhuman hours of the morning asking for a distraction, begging for literally _anything_ to keep his mind busy; asking Tsukki to talk about his day, or the last movie he watched.

Sometimes he’d come up blank on a specific question and just go vague, texting a simple “ _tell me anything_ ” and always getting a lengthy piece of trivia about a random sea creature in response.

This is _perfect_.

“Tsukki, you like aquariums, don’t you?”

Tsukishima looks over at him, expression softening a little, and Kuroo fights back a lovestruck grin.

He’s making it _so_ fucking hard to act casual around him, especially after last night’s pancake ordeal.

And _sure_ , he’s just _sitting there_ , doing nothing except looking at Kuroo, it’s really not a big deal or anything; but he’s just _so_ pretty, and Kuroo has been over this a thousand times already so he won’t waste time repeating himself again— Tsukishima Kei is the textbook definition of beautiful, and all its synonyms.

It’s not like Kuroo is aiming to make a move, or be disgustingly obvious with his affection, but it just feels like there’s no hiding it anymore. There’s _certainly_ no backpedalling, not after you weirdly imply that you want to take someone out for dinner maybe and they kinda-sorta imply they’d be into that.

The situation is out in the open, whether he likes it not— Kuroo Tetsurou is blatantly into Tsukishima Kei, and the latter might be a little bit interested in return. Just a _tiny_ bit. Kuroo doesn’t want to get ahead of himself, he’s not too confident about it yet.

Despite everything, this morning has been as normal as ever. Kuroo thought it would be weirdly awkward, but it hasn’t been, and he’s so relieved that Tsukki is the same as he always is.

“Kuroo?” Tsukishima waves a hand in front of his face, and Kuroo snaps out of his daze.

Akaashi snickers, a hand over his mouth and his eyes narrow in a way that instantly makes Kuroo nervous.

“We agreed on the aquarium while you were _distracted_ ,” Akaashi says, his tone smug and knowing.

Kuroo hopes his quick glare sends enough of a message, something like “ _don’t fucking say a word_ ”, because it’s _Akaashi_ and he’s too smart and sorta weird— or _very_ weird, sometimes Kuroo honestly thinks he has telepathic powers, it’s scary.

He doesn’t continue, thankfully, but he _does_ throw in a quick smirk before brushing off his knees and pushing himself up off the couch.

Bokuto is already halfway through pulling a jacket on, so Kuroo slides his phone into his hoodie pocket and climbs up off the floor. He feels his legs ache, knee joints threatening to pop as they always do, and he mentally curses his shitty body. He’s seriously too young for this shit.

“Alrighty,” he says, stretching his arms above his head and visibly cringing at the cracking noise from his lower back.

Tsukishima grimaces alongside him, a quiet whisper of “ _gross_ ”, and Kuroo mutters back a light “ _shut up_ ” for just the two of them to hear, smiling when Tsukki chuckles.

“Let’s get going then!”

When the gang finally get to the aquarium—after a cab ride that was surprisingly longer than they had expected—it takes all but _two seconds_ for Bokuto to take off running. Not that Kuroo hadn’t expected something similar to happen, in all honesty.

Akaashi gives a soft sigh, not bothering to go after his boyfriend, and Kuroo appreciates the leisurely walking pace as he takes a look around— or looks _up_ , rather, because the aquarium entrance sits atop a few sets of stairs and escalators.

The building itself is huge, split off into at least ten different parts, each one varying in floors and height and Kuroo now realises that the entrance is on what is _probably_ the third floor, hence the need to go up to get to it. He’s thankful Bokuto had ran ahead and chosen to get on the escalator, because he’d genuinely rather die than take all those stairs; he’s fit enough, but just because he _could_ doesn’t mean he would.

On the way up, Kuroo casually leans on the moving railing and stares out at everything slowly passing by; there’s a lot of pretty flower boxes and nature areas, maybe for having a picnic or just for relaxing on a nice day like today; and there’s two or three _huge_ statues of different sea creatures, he can definitely pinpoint one as a dolphin and another as a whale shark.

They reconnect with Bokuto inside the entrance, already waving four admission tickets around excitedly, and Kuroo is _so_ fucking glad because the queue at the ticket desk looks to be huge right now.

He reaches into his coat pocket, fumbling for his wallet, when Bokuto suddenly smacks his arm away.

“Dude, I got this, my treat,” he insistently presses a ticket into Kuroo’s hand, “just buy me dinner or something.”

Bokuto beams at him and Kuroo happily smiles back.

“Takeout at my place when we get back to Tokyo?”

“You _know_ I love our takeout nights,” Bokuto laughs lightly, and Kuroo gives him a quick fist-bump before sliding the ticket into his pocket.

They all stay together at the beginning, for a _little_ while at least. It’s hard to keep track of Bokuto’s location and Kuroo is in a giddy mood—so he feels like he _might_ be adding to the mess—but Akaashi and Tsukki follow not too far behind and continue their quiet conversation between themselves, seemingly unbothered with the organized chaos happening in front of them.

They stop to look at a few small exhibits; tiny fish, sea snails, some plants and pretty displays, until they get to a busy area with a sign that reads “ _petting station_ ” and Bokuto rushes ahead without hesitation.

Said petting area—which is a starfish exhibit, Kuroo soon finds out when he finally manages to reunite with Bokuto—is surrounded by _way_ too many children for comfort. They all look around junior-high age, and Bokuto sticks out like a sore thumb; six-foot tall, unfairly buff, black and white hair falling messily over his forehead.

He matches the kids in expression and personality though, exuberant and almost bouncing on his feet as he awaits a turn, and Kuroo can’t help but smile too.

Bokuto happily looks down at the starfish resting in his outstretched palms, hands still underwater so as not to harm the creature, while Akaashi _grimaces_ , disgust evident in his furrowed eyebrows and scrunched-up nose. Kuroo tries his best not to break into a loud fit of laughter.

Tsukishima, on the other hand, isn’t as put-off as Kuroo thought he might be when it comes to touching gross things ( _ha ha_.) and he tentatively reaches a hand forward to touch it. He draws his hand back instinctively when his fingers finally connect, like he’d been electrocuted, and lets out a small bubbly laugh as he wipes his hand down on his thigh.

They eventually move on, Akaashi dragging Bokuto away through the crowd of children despite his protests, and they casually stroll through a couple more small exhibits together. They pass by some crabs, not paying them too much attention because Kuroo insists they’re _ugly_ , and eventually stop in front of a tank full of varying coral specimens.

It’s silent for a few minutes as the four of them look at different things in the tank, Kuroo zoning in on the obnoxiously bright colour of some red coral, until Tsukishima snorts. Knowing he has eyes on him, he points at a dark-coloured piece of coral, spiky and wild, and then grins.

“That one looks like you, Kuroo,” he shifts his eyes to the side to look for a reaction.

Bokuto and Akaashi laugh instantly, and Kuroo forces out a dramatic gasp, pretending to take offense as he frowns.

“ _Seriously_?” He wipes away non-existent tears, “you wound me Tsukki.”

Tsukishima chuckles as he walks ahead, tucking his hands into his pockets while finding a different exhibit to look at, and Kuroo stares after him with what is probably adoration, if the exasperated look Akaashi is giving him is anything to go by.

Kuroo is about to defend himself—silently of course, trying to come up with the best way to convey “ _please stop judging me_ ” in facial expression alone—when Bokuto points excitedly at a sign reading “ _manta rays_ ”, and tugs on Akaashi’s arm to drag him along.

Leaving Kuroo alone with Tsukishima.

 _Wait_.

He looks helplessly at Akaashi, getting nothing but a smirk and a casual shrug in return before he rounds the corner and disappears. Kuroo has frequently considered murdering his best friends, but Akaashi Keiji always seems to be right at the top of the list.

He holds back a sigh, feeling weirdly nervous about spending time with Tsukki. They’re friends above all else, _close_ friends, but Kuroo can’t help the anxiety that twists in his gut at the thought of being alone with him.

It’s weird, because they’ve done this before; they _always_ hang out together, just the two of them, and nothing is ever weird about it. So Kuroo isn’t sure why his stomach hurts this time around— actually, he _does_ know why, knows it’s because he’s in far too deep and there’s probably no chance of ever surfacing again, he’s just gonna fucking drown this time.

He pointedly ignores it, or allows it to happen, knowing that it’s partly to blame on his stupid brain overthinking things.

Tsukishima approaches casually, hands still nestled in his pockets, and Kuroo quickly shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

Ever the pro at acting normal, he reverts back to being his usual _charming_ self and holds out his arm in a gesture for Tsukki to take hold of it.

“Shall we?”

Tsukki blinks dumbly at his arm, and then snickers loudly.

“Whoever said chivalry is dead?” He teases, slowly interlocking his arm with Kuroo’s.

And Kuroo— Kuroo just stares down in shock, taken aback that Tsukki _actually_ took his arm; he was expecting him to laugh it off, maybe give Kuroo a light shove or playfully smack his arm away, but okay. This totally works too.

“Hey,” Tsukishima tugs at their interlocked arms, and Kuroo doesn’t miss the slightly smug smile on his face, “let’s go already.”

Kuroo grins, rolling his eyes and then letting out a short laugh. He readjusts his hold on their arms, feeling the warmth seep into his side, the pressure of Tsukki’s body pressed up against his— but he ignores it as best as he can and starts to walk.

They pass by a few singular tanks containing more coral and some smaller creatures, the displays pretty and well put-together but nothing that Tsukki seems to slow down for, so Kuroo continues on without hesitation. He definitely does _not_ get distracted by the way their steps fall perfectly in sync.

A couple minutes later, they both come to a stop in front of a large tank. The room around them is a little dim, the low lighting accentuating the bright colours of the tank and coating their nearby surroundings in a bright blue haze.

Tropical fish of all different kinds swim around the tank slowly, and Kuroo looks between them in fascination; the colours are beautiful, each fish different to one another in the tiniest of ways, and Kuroo could spend hours standing here just figuring out the differences between them.

He often finds this kind of stuff soothing, and he’ll happily admit he has an ocean screensaver on his laptop. He finds _nothing_ wrong with leaving his screen to dim on purpose so he can watch the little fish swim around, okay? He also finds nothing wrong with admitting that he might have named some of them after his friends. It’s _cute_ , leave him alone.

As always, like he does at home with his screensaver, he realises he’s been silently absorbed into the fish world for a while now. Being a fish would be so easy— _right_ , back on track.

He turns his head slightly to the side to check up on whatever Tsukki is doing and _instantly_ regrets it. This linked arm thing, the standing side-by-side? This was a _mistake_ , because there’s practically no space between them and Kuroo really doesn’t think he would survive if Tsukki was to turn his head. _Please don’t turn your head, oh my god._

Luckily, Tsukki continues to stare at the fish tank in what appears to be _awe_. Or it’s not that lucky, really, because he looks as cute as ever and his eyes are almost glowing in the light; maybe that’s just the reflection onto his glasses, but Kuroo watches closely as his iris slowly flick between different fish in the tank, his pupils widening every so often.

“You should be my personal tour guide,” Kuroo says suddenly.

Tsukishima turns, jumping slightly in shock, and Kuroo would laugh if he wasn’t so overwhelmed. He was right. Fuck, he was _right_ — this lack of distance between them is killing him.

He stays put though, knowing that flinching away or backing up would be way too obvious, and hopes that if he _is_ blushing then the lighting would hide it. He certainly _feels_ like his face is on fire.

Tsukki blinks for a few seconds, an act that Kuroo has come to learn is him processing what he heard, and then he tilts his head with a knowing grin.

“Oh? Why’s that?”

Kuroo grins, glad that Tsukki had so casually decided to play along.

“I know you like this kinda stuff, that you know a lot about the sea,” Kuroo reaches over to his left with his free hand, picking up a little information brochure from the side of the tank and waving it aimlessly as he talks.

“So you should teach me, obviously.”

Tsukishima throws his head back as he laughs, glasses sliding up his nose and his hair ruffling just _slightly_ against Kuroo’s shoulder, and he wordlessly tugs on Kuroo’s arm to drag him towards the next section.

Kuroo matches his steps, instantly falling back in sync, and looks around as they walk; the lighting in the room getting significantly dimmer as they pass by a sign reading “ _deep sea world_ ”.

“I should charge you, you know,” Tsukki says as he slowly glances around, “ _1500_ yen per fact.”

Kuroo’s footing stumbles, and he chokes on a laugh as he almost trips over. He looks across to see Tsukishima smirking to himself, but his gaze stays focused ahead of them and he refuses to meet Kuroo’s eyes. This man is _undoubtedly_ going to be the death of him.

“ _Jeez_ , Tsukki,” he gives their joined arms a playful tug, “really making a guy fork over the cash, huh.”

Tsukki simply huffs out a short laugh in response and then suddenly stops walking. Kuroo stumbles _again_ but quickly rights himself before he goes tumbling into the exhibit in front of them.

Said exhibit is a _huge_ tank, way bigger than the one from before, and Kuroo falls silent instantly; anything else he had to say dying on the tip of his tongue as his eyes widen and his mind goes blank.

If he had felt soothed before, he feels absolutely _serene_ now. The tank is again full of varying fish, but each one is almost neon, glowing bright and emitting their own colourful light. The coral at the bottom of the tank appears to be sparkling, and Kuroo is just fascinated at how pretty everything looks.

He wishes his ocean screensaver could be this nice.

There’s so much to look at that he doesn’t know where to start first, and instead spends a while just following one specific fish as it swims peacefully around the tank, bright spot of teal making it easy to locate amidst the dark lighting.

It’s cool and all, until he spots a spider crab crawling out from between some strategically placed rocks and he almost screams his immediate thought of “ _what the fuck_ ”. Seriously, what the fuck.

Kuroo feels a bump against his shoulder, and thank _god_ , he can finally tear his eyes away from the ugliest thing he’s ever seen in his life and instead look at the _prettiest_ thing he’s ever seen in his life. A win-win situation.

Tsukki is staring at the fish that Kuroo was looking at previously, eyes focused despite the nudge he gave, so Kuroo lets himself stare as he waits patiently. The lighting in here is _dangerous_ , the darkness of the room drawing out the bright colours inside the tank and making them a noticeable contrast where they paint the front of Tsukishima’s body.

Kuroo’s sure he probably fares the same, a mess of neon and glow-in-the-dark splotches relative to the movement of the fish, but it’s not the same— not when the bright cyan dips along every smooth curve of Tsukishima’s face, patches of green shifting against the black of his jacket when the water ripples.

He looks unworldly, like a _god_ , and Kuroo would happily devote himself to the church of worshipping Tsukishima Kei.

“They’re bioluminescent,” Tsukki begins, gently pushing a finger against the tank and moving it along as he follows the fish, “it’s an evolutionary process, to deal with the lack of light.”

His voice is confident, strong, and Kuroo can hear the genuine interest in what he’s saying. It’s cute, another one of those lesser-seen sides of Tsukishima; Kuroo doesn’t think he’s ever shared this side of himself with anyone else, not like he’s _protective_ about it or anything, but _yeah_ , it’s a little heart-warming.

Their arms are still linked, both their hands in their respective coat pockets casually, and neither of them seeming to think much of the lack of personal space, especially not when Tsukki leans into Kuroo’s side as he talks.

Kuroo rarely hears him talk this much, not so excitedly anyways— unless the conversation topic is dinosaurs, or music, or horror movies… an intriguingly mixed bag of interests for someone who looks so unfitting of them.

Tsukki, tall and mildly intimidating, with a minor case of resting bitch face; hiding his smile in the too-long sleeve of his hoodie when Kuroo hands him a tiny pink triceratops keychain he won from a gachapon machine.

 _Fuck_ , Kuroo is _so_ whipped.

Tsukishima continues to point at varying creatures in the tank, and his mouth is moving too and Kuroo _is_ listening he promises, but there’s something so mesmerizing in the way Tsukki’s face genuinely lights up as he talks, his eyes sparkling and skin almost glowing.

“Hey,” Kuroo says the second Tsukki stops talking, not wanting to interrupt but feeling the _need_ to speak.

Tsukki blinks up at him in surprise, caught off guard. It’s not the first time today that he seems to have completely forgotten about his surroundings, focused solely on the fish and not much else, and it’s _adorable_.

He hums in response to Kuroo’s outburst, an eyebrow raised questionably.

“Fireflies are bioluminescent, right?” Kuroo asks, and Tsukki quickly furrows his eyebrows in confusion.

“Fireflies?” He looks up towards the ceiling, as if looking for the answer inside his own head, “yeah, but—”

He stops, mouth agape and hanging on a word, and Kuroo watches in smug amusement as a pink flush slowly settles on Tsukishima’s cheeks. He lets out a groan, probably for lack of a better reaction, and buries his face into Kuroo’s shoulder as he whines a muffled “ _shut up_ ”.

The embarrassment is still evident in his tone, and Kuroo laughs loudly to distract himself from the domesticity of having Tsukishima Kei’s head resting on his shoulder while they link arms. At an aquarium. Just the two of them.

 _Alone_.

He blinks suddenly, staring straight ahead at the fish tank, listening to the ambient noise around him but specifically focusing in on Tsukishima’s gentle breathing, so close to him because of their proximity, and their arms are linked and Tsukishima’s head is on his fucking shoulder and— is this a _date_?

It’s stupid to ask, he knows that already, it can’t be a date considering neither of them _asked_ for it to be one, but… it’s like, date _behaviour_ , right? In any other situation this would probably be a date. This is very much comparable to a cheesy scene in a romance movie.

Kuroo shakes it off instantly when he feels a light tug on his arm, dragging him back to the reality of totally-not-a-date, and he smiles casually at Tsukki’s raised eyebrow.

“Come on, _firefly_ ,” he starts to walk, gently pulling Tsukishima along with him, “you still owe me the rest of the tour.”

An hour or so later, Kuroo is significantly smarter in the field of marine biology. He’s also super thirsty. Not like, the _thirsty_ type of thirst, the ‘ _literally in need of a drink or I’ll die of dehydration_ ’ type of thirst.

With no sign of Bokuto or Akaashi, and somehow not running into them _once_ in the entire aquarium, Kuroo figures he still has plenty of time to waste, so he points out the sign for a café. It’s a silent gesture, and Tsukki responds with an equally silent shrug.

They’d unlinked their arms a little while ago; Kuroo had tripped over for what was probably the fiftieth time—blamed the dark exhibition room and not the fact he’d been staring at Tsukki instead of watching where he was going—and Tsukki had unhooked their arms so he could grab him properly and prevent his untimely death.

He’d sighed while dusting off the non-existent dirt on Kuroo’s chest, fingers brushing lightly against the fabric while he huffed out an amused “ _you’re so clumsy_ ”.

When Kuroo had fluttered his eyelashes obnoxiously, replying with an over-dramatic sigh of “ _my knight in shining armour_ ”, Tsukki had lightly shoved at him with a scoff and hurried off towards a different exhibit.

Kuroo had laughed, loud and boisterous, as he pushed his hands deep into his pockets and casually followed along after him. He definitely wasn’t missing the closeness of their linked arms and touching shoulders, _no way_.

The café is huge, tens of tables that are mostly occupied by the same small children they’d ran into all over the aquarium, and there’s a specific wall which is actually just glass— one side of a _massive_ exhibition tank.

Kuroo looks away from it for a second and gives Tsukishima a slight nudge, asking him what he wants to drink when he finally looks over.

“ _Hm_?” Tsukki blinks, and then quickly shakes his head, “no, I’ll get myself something Kuroo, it’s fine—”

“Oh come on,” Kuroo starts to pat at his pockets to find his wallet, “don’t I owe you for all those _expensive_ facts? Let me get this.”

Tsukishima rubs at his temples as he lets out a heavy sigh, an act that’s _way_ too dramatic considering Kuroo knows he’s kidding, and eventually his scowl cracks and forms a smile for a split second before he forces it back.

“Alright, I’ll have a peach tea,” he fidgets with his glasses for a second, and then his voice is softer, smaller, “thank you.”

Kuroo smiles wide, giving two thumbs up, and then throwing out a casual “ _find us a cool table_ ” before wandering off to buy the drinks. He doesn’t waste time overthinking his usage of the word ‘ _us_ ’, or the drinks, or the entire still-definitely-not-a-date situation, nope.

He finds Tsukki a few minutes later, sitting at a table pushed right up against the glass of the tank, _of course_. His chin rests lazily on one of his palms as he scrolls through his phone with the other hand. He looks _peaceful_ , and Kuroo can relate to that for once.

Kuroo quietly slips into the seat opposite, laughing to himself when Tsukki jumps slightly, and then slides the tea towards him. He puts his phone down on the table, glaring at Kuroo as he takes a sip of his drink, and then smiling as if the previous fright was suddenly forgotten.

A guide to getting Tsukishima Kei to forgive you for almost anything, tried and tested by Kuroo Tetsurou; buy him fruit-flavoured drinks or desserts, specifically peach or strawberry, or gift him something cute and/or pink. Bonus points if it’s something dinosaur related, or you could go far-out and buy him stuff relating to his favourite horror series’— maybe Kuroo just buys too many gifts for his friends. It makes sense now why he’s so fucking broke all the time.

The two of them sit in comfortable silence for a while, Kuroo happily sipping his coke and watching Tsukki absently stare into the tank. The lighting is the same as earlier, but with the brightness of the rest of the room the blue glow on Tsukki’s face is only faint— though it’s still taking everything in Kuroo to not just fall apart, to not intertwine his hand with the one Tsukki has resting on the table, or to avoid pulling him forward and kissing him senseless.

He takes a longer sip than necessary to make sure his mouth can’t fuck him over like it usually does. He is _not_ about to confess right now, despite how much he wants to. It’s pathetic, really, just how badly he _wants_. Kuroo could definitely describe himself as _yearning_ , that’s how pathetic this is.

As if reading his mind and sensing his prayers for a distraction, a giant sea turtle swims into view, slowly moving right past their table.

Tsukki gasps, light and almost inaudible, but Kuroo finds himself smiling at the awed expression on his face. They’re both silent until it passes by, and then Tsukki taps idly at the lid of his drink, _antsy_ almost.

Kuroo happily bites.

“I feel like you’re _dying_ to impart some more wisdom on me, Tsukki,” Kuroo leans forward onto his elbows, chin resting on the back of his hands in a subtle movement meant to convey “ _go ahead, I’m listening_ ”.

Tsukki smiles softly, like he understands completely.

“That’s a green sea turtle,” he points back towards wherever the turtle may be, a blind aimless gesture since his eyes are focused on Kuroo, “but the _leatherback_ turtle is the only living species from a family that existed 84 million years ago.”

Kuroo still hears some slight hesitation in his voice, so he kicks his legs out under the small table and gives Tsukki’s foot a playful nudge against his own.

Tsukki grins, gently kicking back, and his eyes seem to sparkle with excitement as he opens his mouth to continue.

“They’re like… _cousins to the dinosaurs_.”

His voice is almost a whisper, and Kuroo— _fuck_. Kuroo lets out a loud laugh, sudden and beyond his control, but _wow_.

Tsukki raises an eyebrow, scowl starting to form, and Kuroo quickly shakes his head while trying to stop giggling.

“Always back to dinosaurs with you.”

He feels a harsh kick against his shin and he waves his hands defensively, hoping to prevent any further injuries and buy him enough time to explain.

“No, no, it’s _cute_! I like it!”

And— ah. Shit. Okay. That was _not_ meant to come out. He really should have just stayed quiet and drank his stupid coke and not opened his stupid _mouth_ , how fucking embarrassing.

Tsukki appears to blush a little though, cheeks tinged pink, and _huh, alright_ ; Kuroo maybe files away another minor piece of evidence towards his wild conspiracy theory of “ _Tsukishima Kei might like me back_ ”. That makes like, two pieces of evidence maybe. A solid theory, if he does say so himself. It’s _definitely_ more scientifically accurate than the flat earth theory, so he has that covered.

Silently picking up his drink, Tsukki turns and looks back out at the fish tank once more, and Kuroo decides to let himself stare as his mind wanders to places he probably shouldn’t let it wander. _Again_.

He could just confess— he really _should_ confess, honestly, but _ugh_.

It’s hard sometimes, dealing with all of this. His brain already works overtime to make sure he feels like shit constantly, so it’s nothing new for all the relationship negativity to also start swimming around inside his head.

There’s plenty of reasons why Kuroo can’t find it in himself to confess— he doesn’t wanna deal with the rejection, or the possibility of losing a friendship that he so deeply cares about; that even if there might actually be something between them, and he thinks that there _is_ , it’s still hard to reach out and actually do it.

There’s something stopping him every single time, a depressed little Kuroo with greasy hair and dirty sweatpants, sitting on his shoulder and whispering to him “ _don’t bother, he doesn’t like you like that, no one ever has and no one ever will, you’re_ pathetic”.

Which is, well, it’s _true_ , isn’t it?

It might not be, it’s just that Kuroo certainly doesn’t know anymore. He stopped knowing years ago, the line between fact and fiction becoming a blur in his head. It’s hard to think straight, hard to get past the ingrained notion of “ _I hate myself_ ”, no matter how much he _wants_ to move on from it.

He _is_ trying though, he can confidently say that much about himself; he has his routines he follows to take care of himself, he has friends who he _knows_ care about him even if sometimes his head tells him that they don’t; and sitting here now with Tsukishima, watching him smile happily to himself as he watches the fish swim by— he has _something_.

And really, isn’t that everything he needs?

When Kuroo finally finishes his drink, self-loathing pushed right to the back of his mind, he lets out a content hum and shifts in his seat.

“Shall we go find the guys? I’m actually starting to consider that Bokuto might have been kicked out.”

Tsukki laughs, soft and sweet, and Kuroo is falling all over again.

“You really think Akaashi would let him cause _that_ much trouble?”

Kuroo only smirks back as he untangles their legs from under the table, trying not to focus too hard on the fact that they’ve been comfortably and casually playing footsie this entire time.

He stands up, trying to act as chill as he can manage for a guy that’s hopelessly in love with his best friend.

“You _know_ Keiji would be right alongside him, probably doing even _more_ damage.”

He picks up his empty coke bottle to throw in the trash on the way out and then pushes his free hand deep into the pocket of his jeans, avoiding any current or future craving of wanting to hold Tsukishima’s hand.

“Well,” Kuroo nods ahead of himself with a small grin, “let’s go, _junior marine biologist_.”

Tsukki scoffs lightly, jokingly flipping Kuroo off, and then he walks on ahead at a surprisingly fast pace. However, Kuroo doesn’t miss the stretch of his cheeks into a grin, or the bright red flush along the tips of his ears, and he smiles widely to himself before jogging to catch up.

They have _something_ ; and whatever it is, it’s Kuroo’s _everything_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey yall im so fucking sick right now lmaooo editing this was a rough time so if theres any little errors i sincerely apologise! i think i caught them all though :')
> 
> anyways feel free to hmu on [twit](https://twitter.com/transtsukki) and as always thank you so much for reading!! i appreciate it <3


	7. saturday ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima is either one of three things: one, completely oblivious to the killer crush that Kuroo has been nursing for years now; two, aware of said crush and doesn’t feel the same so is just being platonic and friendly in his actions; or three, aware of said crush and _does_ feel the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeehaw

**You** (23:37)  
do u think ur cats will still love me when i finally return

 **ken** 💕 (23:39)  
they never loved you to begin with.  
go to sleep, kuro.

Kuroo huffs, dropping his phone to the side of the bed and watching it fall face down against the sheets, the only source of light in the room quickly disappearing. He throws an arm over his face to muffle his tired sigh.

It’s another sleepless night, and after frantically refreshing every single app on his phone for the past hour, Kuroo just feels more awake than ever. He hasn’t really had one of these nights in a while, the kind that he knows is going to keep him up until the early hours, but then again he supposes he’s _due_ one after so long without.

For once, it’s not exactly bad thoughts keeping him awake, which he’s beyond thankful for. Instead, he’s overthinking the entire day at the aquarium; replaying every tiny little movement, every subtle smile that Tsukishima gave him, trying to piece together a definitive answer to the ongoing question of “does he _like_ like me?”.

It’s a valid question, and it’s one that Kuroo feels like he needs an answer to as soon as possible, before he explodes or something. He could spontaneously combust, that’d be fun. Add another one of those cases to the mystery pile for scientists, y’know?

He’s _maybe_ considering making some kinda move, if he can come to a solid “ _yes_ ” answer, because it’s all getting _tiring_ — constantly thinking about just how badly he wants to make their _something_ into an actual _thing_.

 _Maybe_ , though, is still the key word here, because this is Kuroo Tetsurou and his own brain hates him and coming to a decision about something as major as a crush is going to take him probably the rest of his life. No big deal.

Checking his phone once more out of impulse and habit, he hisses quietly at the too-high brightness of his screen, _holy shit_ , and then quickly throws it back down after seeing the clock read almost midnight. It’s not _that_ late, he’s certainly been up at worse times, but he knows his own shitty body and he also knows that sleep is unfortunately out of the picture for at least a few more hours.

So he could continue to lie here, in the dark, staring up at the ceiling and listening to his friends snore while they sleep soundly—he’s mainly listening to Bokuto snore, since he’s loud enough to drown out any other noise—or he could do what he usually does during his sleep crises and go out for a walk.

 _Alright._ Time to avoid the incoming mental breakdown, let’s go _._

He sits up with a small sigh and throws the blankets off himself, lazily picking up a pair of jeans from the floor—hoping they’re actually his, but then again no one else has been leaving their clothes on the floor—and swapping his sweats out for the denim in an attempt to keep warm.

The shirt he’s wearing is fine, comfortable enough, so he quietly sneaks out into the lounge and picks up his hoodie from where he threw it over the couch. He slides it on and zips it up only partly, feeling the late-night chill hit him even though he’s indoors.

He’s standing awkwardly in the _genkan_ , leaning on the wall and halfway through putting his left shoe on when he hears soft padding footsteps approaching from behind him. _Huh_.

Kuroo turns, half expecting to already know who it is because he knows he’s not the only light sleeper of the bunch, and he smiles when his suspicions are confirmed.

“Going somewhere, Kuroo?”

Tsukki fidgets with the long sleeves of his sweater, pulling them down over his hands, and Kuroo notes that he definitely wasn’t wearing that when he went to bed, nor does he sleep in _jeans_. He’d got up to get dressed, and that thought is doing weird things to Kuroo’s sensitive little heart right now.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, trying to play it cool as usual and _not_ combust, and wordlessly watches as Tsukki leans on the opposite wall to pull his sneakers on.

Kuroo shrugs casually, but a small smirk tugs at his lips.

“Well, where are _you_ going?”

Once done with his shoes, Tsukishima lifts a hand to tuck a short strand of hair behind his ear and he laughs lightly, clearly trying to keep the volume down because of the time.

He steps forward, past Kuroo, brushing their shoulders as he goes.

“ _Shut up_ ,” he chuckles again as he quietly opens the front door, “let’s just go already.”

Kuroo smiles, to himself more than anything, and immediately follows after Tsukki, remembering to lock the door as silently as he can behind them both.

They walk around aimlessly for a little while, half an hour at best, but Kuroo quickly finds himself distracted by his thoughts— which is the usual situation he always ends up in, anyways.

He thinks it’s kinda _weird_ to be doing this; to be on one of his late-night depression walks, the thing he usually does by himself because that’s just how it’s always been for him, depression is a _lonely_ situation; so it’s kinda weird to be doing this when he’s _not_ alone.

Tsukishima walks casually beside him, occasionally stretching his arms above his head whenever he yawns—Kuroo will buy him a strong coffee or something tomorrow, as thanks for coming with him—and squinting every so often when they pass under a bright streetlight.

There’s a lingering silence in the air, not awkward or anything but oddly comfortable, and Kuroo really can’t help himself from sneaking another glance over at Tsukki for what is probably the _hundredth_ time in the past thirty minutes.

He looks— _god_ , Kuroo isn’t sure how many more times he can reiterate just how fucking perfect Tsukishima Kei looks at all times. There’s a tugging in his stomach, butterflies going crazy, and he seriously has to do something about this soon. He can’t survive much longer, someone has to help him before Tsukki murders him in cold blood. Or, like, _assists_ to his murder, because Kuroo is going to have a heart attack. Cause of death: second-hand heart attack? Heart attack by association?

Tsukki meets his eyes then, and his lips shift into a small smile as he tilts his head in question. Kuroo instantly looks away to hide the embarrassment of being caught staring, hoping that the dark of the night will help hide his blush.

“Do you do this often?” Tsukki asks curiously, and very quickly narrows his eyes in warning.

A smart move, because Kuroo wants to laugh, feels it bubble up instinctually, but he holds it in and waits patiently for clarification.

“Don’t think I’m trying a cheesy one-liner, I’m not _you_.” Tsukki smirks, “I just know you don’t sleep well, so… I was wondering how often you do this. Walk around at night, or whatever.”

Kuroo hums as he mulls it over, trying to stay focused on the actual question and not get immediately side-tracked by the acknowledgement that Tsukishima Kei knows he doesn’t sleep well, that he willingly let Tsukki know something so private about him and he _remembered_ , that Kuroo really just said “ _fuck it_ ” at some point and started letting Tsukishima in on some of his worst thoughts— he settles for a small shrug and pushes his hands deep into his pockets.

“I try not to, but sometimes it helps. Clears my head, y’know.”

He doesn’t add on that this time it _isn’t_ helping. He can’t exactly clear his head when the guy he’s constantly thinking about is walking close enough to him that they keep brushing shoulders.

Instead, Kuroo takes a slow look around.

They’re… somewhere. Kuroo isn’t sure where, he’s just sorta been walking and Tsukki has been following him, he thinks. That’s definitely a bad decision on Tsukki’s part, he shouldn’t trust Kuroo like that because they could very well be lost here and it’d certainly be his own fault.

It’s too dark out to pinpoint an exact location, the flickering of the nearby streetlights not exactly helping with anything, but Kuroo couldn’t recognise much anyways; he thinks they’ve probably wandered a bit too far from the accommodation, given how long they’ve been walking in a straight line.

It’s another few minutes before Kuroo stops walking entirely, spotting a brightly lit building nearby, and thank _god_. They’re not _completely_ doomed.

To their right, up some stairs, is a fairly large and nondescript building. It doesn’t seem to be that big of a deal on its own, but there’s a lit-up sign outside that Kuroo can squint at and just barely make out; the words “ _stargazing village_ ” calling out to him in a thick black script.

Stargazing.

Well isn’t that just _perfect_.

Now, Kuroo has never exactly been a sensible man, despite what he might have said about himself in the past. Those were definitely lies, and the truth is that he’s _definitely_ an idiot.

In this moment right here, nearing one in the morning and standing underneath a broken streetlight, the love of his life huddled close to his side; Kuroo is about to make what he can confidently say is the dumbest decision he’s ever made in his life.

Maybe the second dumbest, because Koutarou will never let him live down the time he bleached a very sizeable strip of his hair when he was _nineteen, alright_? Give a man a break.

“Hey,” he nudges Tsukishima and then lets the words tumble out before he can even start to regret them, “do you wanna go stargazing?”

Because why the fuck _not_ , y’know? Kuroo could stand out here all night, letting the wind continue to fuck up his hair and letting the moonlight remind him that he should be asleep instead, but then he’d make no progress on that important question in his head.

He can’t anyways, with Tsukki here with him like this; how is he supposed to come to a well-thought-out decision on his crush if every time he looks over he’s immediately overwhelmed by said crush being the most beautiful man on Earth? It’s not happening, and regardless of whether Kuroo was sitting in bed, or standing here on the street, or lying in there and stargazing— he’d still be thinking about the same thing.

So he throws it all out the metaphorical window, a general “ _whatever_ ” as he casually rolls with the idea of _stargazing_ , allowing the invitation to be taken in whatever way Tsukki wants to take it. At the worst, he’ll say no, say he’s too tired or that he wants to go back to bed, and Kuroo would happily walk him home—

“Alright,” Tsukishima runs a hand through his hair before nodding. “Sure.”

— _Or_ he’ll say yes as nonchalantly as ever and give Kuroo that stupidly soft smile that makes him want to lie down in the middle of the road and accept his fate.

Stargazing with Tsukishima Kei. _Okay, I guess I’m doing this_.

Kuroo grins, nervous to his fucking core but still giving his best attempt at remaining chill on the outside, and starts heading towards the building.

He takes the steps two at a time, for no real reason other than to warm up a little in the chilly weather. And also because below all the stupid nerves, he’s _sorta_ excited, alright? Stargazing is super fun and relaxing, and with a clear sky like tonight it’ll be a beautiful view too.

It’s weird to admit, but Kuroo has always been a fan of lying on the ground during his worst moods; there’s something about the hardness of the floor, or the damp chill of the grass— it’s all oddly grounding, _ha_ , and makes him feel instantly calm; like the earth underneath him is a sudden reminder that he’s a human being, still alive and breathing.

The opportunities to lie on the ground and stare up at some pretty stars and share a calm night with Tsukki are few and far between, so he’ll happily take what he can get.

Once at the top of the staircase, he looks down and watches Tsukishima, still coming up the stairs after taking each step one at a time like a _regular_ person. There’s a small smile on his face, his cheeks tinged pink with what Kuroo assumes is coldness, but he bites the bullet and lets himself wonder about it anyways.

He lets his mind race to the possibility that Tsukki _gets it_ — because Kuroo isn’t all that subtle about this anymore. He most likely never has been, let’s be real; dancing with your crush and wanting to kiss him so bad that it was probably written all over your face, the aquarium not-a-date being a whole new level of blatant. He’s a _fool_.

And this? _This_? _Stargazing_?

Tsukishima is either one of three things: one, completely oblivious to the killer crush that Kuroo has been nursing for years now; two, aware of said crush and doesn’t feel the same so is just being platonic and friendly in his actions; or three, aware of said crush and _does_ feel the same.

One seems unlikely, because Tsukki can be weirdly aware of Kuroo doing things before he’s even done them. He and Akaashi are like, the bestest friends when it comes to being strange.

Two also seems unlikely, given that with how disgustingly obvious Kuroo is, Tsukki would have just verbally turned him down at some point— Kuroo’s witnessed it before, Tsukishima is no stranger to casually rejecting someone.

Which leaves three. If it’s true— well, even if it’s _not_ , Kuroo thinks it’s about time to actually do something about it; figure it out once and for all.

They walk into the building together, and Kuroo immediately notices a small turnstile blocking the entrance, with a little coin slot in the side of it. It makes sense, it’d be unlikely to have a member of staff here at one in the morning.

He hears the distinct sound of coins rattling and looks over to scowl at Tsukki.

“Are you serious?” He asks, and Tsukki only frowns at him, “I dragged you out here, let me get this.”

“I _chose_ to come with you, Kuroo. You didn’t drag me anywhere.”

“ _Hmm_ ,” Kuroo drops a 500-yen coin into the slot and passes through the barrier, quickly turning back and making a dramatic show of dropping another coin in, “well, I guess that settles it.”

Tsukki snorts, instantly covering his mouth and then giving Kuroo a _very_ fake glare, before pushing through the turnstile and joining Kuroo on the other side.

There’s a little rack of pamphlets nearby, a sight that reminds Kuroo of their aquarium trip, and he picks one up to idly inspect it; the cover boasting information on the _eighty-four_ constellations visible from the designated stargazing area on a clear night.

He slides it into his back pocket before spinning around to find Tsukishima, hoping he hasn’t left him alone in the brief few seconds he was distracted.

Tsukki is already looking at him though, a confused—no, _contemplative_?—expression on his face and his arms folded tightly across his chest, sweater sleeves still pulled down over most of his hands.

He’s silent for a minute or two, analysing Kuroo in a way that makes him _incredibly_ nervous, so he slowly raises an eyebrow.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Tsukki begins, cautious and slow, “I’d assume this is a _date_.”

…Ah.

His face stays the same, expression serious and not shifting even a little, and Kuroo commends his efforts at staying casual because _oh my god_. He’s really going to have that heart attack right about now.

This was what he wanted, right? Acknowledgement of the situation, a chance to finally open up a conversation about it? It doesn’t make it any less scary now that it’s actually happening, and Tsukki couldn’t have possibly opened the discussion in a more ambiguous way, what the _fuck_.

He’s fidgeting slightly though, fingers poking out from under his sleeves and digging into his own biceps a little too hard if the indentation of the fabric is anything to go by, and the longer Kuroo stands here and watches him the faster his expression slowly drops into something else, something more _nervous_ maybe— _regretful_ , even.

Nerves, _okay_ , Kuroo can relate to nerves. He can work with this, figure this out.

He shakes his head, more to himself than anything else, and shrugs as he starts to walk further into the building. He’s not trying to be cowardly, he just knows that this conversation would be much more comfortable for the both of them if they were in a nicer environment, like _actually_ being outdoors and looking at the stars.

Footsteps begin to follow behind him, like he expected they would, and he decides to start talking to fill the silence— though it’s not as awkward as he thought it would be, to be honest.

“You’ve always been too smart for your own good, Tsukki.” He says, voice confident despite the shakiness he feels in his entire body.

He can do this! It’s just talking! He talks a lot, like, all of the time. He can definitely talk about the fact that he’s in love with one of his closest friends and has been forever, _no big deal_.

There’s a sign on the wall pointing him in the right direction and he silently takes the turn.

“Were you ever going to genuinely ask me?” Tsukki asks, voice close behind, and Kuroo goes to speak but is quickly cut off. “Our aquarium adventure also felt surprisingly date-like.”

Kuroo laughs then, a genuine small chuckle because Tsukishima really _is_ too smart for his own good. He swings the door open leading to the outside area before responding.

“See! I knew you’d figure it out on your own, and besides—”

Kuroo goes silent, because with the cool air hitting him and the sight of hundreds of stars blinking down at him, he actually forgets what he was going to say. He was right, about this being relaxing, and he feels any remaining semblance of nervousness start to fade away in the moonlight.

They’re stood in a large open area, a fence surrounding them but not high enough to cut off the view of the horizon and the beautiful night sky. There’s a lot of empty garden chairs, the sun lounger types that lie low and offer a view straight up at the sky if you were to sit in one, and Kuroo is glad that it’s _literally_ empty here. He’d rather not pour his heart out and discuss his feelings while other _actual_ couples listened in.

“…Besides?” Tsukishima says, voice suddenly a lot closer than before. It _almost_ makes Kuroo jump, but he manages to hold it together.

He turns his head and gives a quick glance over to Tsukishima, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him now and already looking at him, expectantly.

 _What was the question again_?

“Huh?”

Tsukki laughs lightly at his confusion, a small cloud of breath appearing in front of him and wait, _shit_ , was it really that cold out here? Kuroo had always been told he runs warm, never feeling the cold in the same extreme way that everyone else always seems to, and Kenma always yells at him to stop whining about how hot he is all the time—

“ _I knew you’d figure it out_ ,” Tsukki says, tone way deeper than usual and—that was a _terrible_ impression, what the fuck, he does _not_ sound like that—“which, by the way, what if I _hadn’t_ ever figured it out?”

Tsukki seems to be distracted from the original point, which Kuroo is thankful for because he seriously can’t remember what he was actually going to finish up with. Maybe he just threw the “ _besides_ ” on the end for the sake of it, to fill the silence or kill some time, because he’s totally _lost_ as to whatever he was gonna say.

It’s for the best really, considering all the other times he let his mouth speak without filtering it through his two brain cells first, spilling depressing secrets about his life expectancy and almost confessing his love on way too many separate occasions.

The new topic is interesting though, and Tsukishima’s cheeks are red with something _other_ than the cold, his eyes staying fixed on the ground in front of him. Kuroo takes it upon himself to lead the conversation.

“Well, I guess I’d just take my crush on you to the grave, or something.” He’s light with it, joking around, and Tsukki shoots him a _look_ that instantly shuts him right up.

He’s about to speak again, say something real this time, when he feels Tsukki’s cold hand—fucking _freezing_ , god damn—wrap around his wrist. He pulls him forward, into a clearing without any chairs in the way, and then proceeds to tug Kuroo down to lie on the ground with him.

It’s different, being on the ground, like he’s already explained. It’s nicer down here.

Tsukki’s hand still holds tight onto Kuroo’s wrist, and it’s a sudden reminder that he’s only wearing a _sweater_. If Kuroo is going to die of a heart attack, Tsukishima is going to end up dying of hypothermia, and he definitely can’t allow that.

So he shuffles over, hard to do eloquently when he’s lying on the floor, but he makes it work and ends up with his side pressed against Tsukki’s, shoulder to foot. He hears Tsukki let out a content sigh, close to his ear thanks to their proximity, and he readjusts their arms so that _he’s_ holding onto Tsukki’s wrist, hopefully letting the warmth spread through to him.

“ _Shit_ , how are you so hot?” Tsukishima asks, happily burrowing into Kuroo’s side, and Kuroo positively fucking _beams_.

“Oh? Are you attempting _another_ cheesy one-liner on me?”

“ _Shut up_.”

He laughs for a few minutes, eventually feeling Tsukki pinch his arm in an attempt to get him to stop, and then he looks up at the sky.

It’s gorgeous, of course. There’s plenty of constellations visible, but Kuroo would be lying if he said he knew a single thing about any of them. He used to do this when he was a kid, camp out in the garden at night and point up at the stars with Kenma by his side, the two of them coming up with fake names for shapes they thought looked cool.

He supposes that’s why this has stuck with him all his life, always going outside and promptly lying on the ground when things get too much. The stars seem infinite, floating up there and just _existing_ , so far away from him but still visible from where he lies. It’s comforting.

Tsukki is quiet too, but Kuroo hears his gentle breathing, relaxed, and feels the soft thrum of his pulse in his wrist. It’s intimate, close, and isn’t this exactly what they’re here to talk about?

He’s hesitant, but he lets out a small breath as he gathers his thoughts.

“I’m scared of ruining our friendship,” Kuroo’s voice is hushed, though it’s not quite a whisper yet.

There’s a brief pause, and Kuroo feels Tsukishima turn his head but he doesn’t look over, _can’t_ look over, so he just continues to stare straight up and focus on his breathing.

“You shouldn’t be,” Tsukki says, _confidently_ , and Kuroo’s heart stutters against his chest.

_This is happening._

(Whether “ _this_ ” is their confession, the spilling of their stupid pent-up feelings for each other, or if it’s simply just Kuroo’s inevitable heart attack, he’s not sure. Both, most likely.)

He turns his head, almost whiplash fast— and okay, that was a mistake, because now there’s like five centimetres of space between his and Tsukki’s nose and _ugh_. He’s going to _die_.

Tsukki smiles at him, expression way too gentle given the pure confidence he had a second ago—which was like, sorta hot in all honesty—and Kuroo could just lean a tiny bit forward and— Tsukki smirks at him then, a _knowing_ grin, and turns his face away.

Kuroo continues to stare at his profile, pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight— _tsuki, ha ha_ —and his eyelashes fluttering softly against his cheeks when he blinks, only visible because of the proximity and the fact that Tsukki’s eyelashes are a light blonde like his hair.

Which he _bleaches_ , by the way; Kuroo’s had his fair share of days sat on the floor in Tsukishima’s bathroom, reading the back of a bleaching kit with genuine interest as Tsukki kneels over his bathtub and washes the dye out. One of the many tidbits of information about Tsukishima Kei that very few people seem to know, for some reason.

It’s silent, for a few minutes at most, but it feels like _hours_ really. Kuroo would freak out in any other situation, immediately get anxious that he’s fucked up or said something wrong because it’s too quiet for too long and he _hates_ that.

He almost _does_ freak out, when he feels Tsukki shake off the hand around his wrist. He quickly fills the gap though, pushing his palm against Kuroo’s and interlocking their fingers together; hands still trapped between their bodies but now joined together and plenty warmer than before.

Tsukki’s hands are— _fuck_ , he’s holding hands with Tsukishima Kei—they’re softer than he’d ever expected, and it’s a pleasant surprise. Not that Kuroo would care either way, he’s not going to stop holding hands just because he doesn’t like the feel of it, but it’s an odd sensation.

He has callouses on his own fingertips from playing guitar and from the repeated years of volleyball, so he’s always been used to the rougher feel of his own hands. Tsukki’s hands are _super_ soft, and warm, and not clammy in the slightest which is totally unfair because Kuroo feels like he’s sweating buckets.

“I don’t know if you remember when we first met,” Tsukishima starts again, voice gentle this time, and his thumb rubs idly against the back of Kuroo’s hand.

Kuroo knows not to interrupt him right now, but he kinda just wants to scream _I do, I do remember. I remember it all, down to the exact outfit you were wearing and the colour of the earrings you had in, I think about it constantly and I can’t believe you remember too_ — but he doesn’t, and instead gives Tsukki’s hand a soft squeeze as a signal for him to continue.

“ _God_ ,” Kei laughs, light and giggly, “I was so nervous around you back then. I still am, sometimes, but…”

He takes a deep breath.

“I’ve liked you from the moment I first saw you.”

Kuroo feels lightheaded suddenly.

He sits up quickly, clambering up off the floor in what he’s sure is the least graceful way possible—still holding Tsukki’s hand though—and turns back to stare at him with a look of disbelief.

He’s _shocked_ , okay? Like, the situation he’s in is only just settling in. It’s finally caught up to him.

“And you still like me?” Kuroo asks dumbly.

Kei grins up at him, not moving from where he continues to lie on the ground.

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

It’s typical, Kei being his usual snarky self despite the situation; Kuroo wouldn’t have it any other way and it’s exactly why he loves him in the first place. He can still see the blush along his cheeks, the tiny twitch of his left eyebrow, and the slightly tighter grip on his hand letting him know that it’s all still _real_.

Kuroo lets go of their joined hands to rub at his eyes, and then covers his face with both palms as he loudly groans into them.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

He hears shuffling and spreads his fingers so he can peek out through the gaps, watching Tsukki sit up slowly, his eyebrows raised in confusion.

“ _Hm_?”

Kuroo dramatically throws his hands away from his face as he leans his head back and huffs.

“We could have gotten this over with _years ago!_ ”

Tsukki’s expression shifts then, his head tilting slightly to the side as he smirks. He smooths his hands down the front of his sweater, straightening out the creases before pushing himself up off the floor. He climbs slowly to his feet and stretches his arms high above his head when he’s finally standing.

Kuroo lets himself peek at the sliver of bare skin underneath where Kei’s sweater rides up, and immediately regrets it. He flicks his gaze to literally anything else— a nearby chair, how cool. Awesome.

“Enlighten me,” Kuroo looks back over to watch Tsukki talk, “what exactly is _this_ , Kuroo?”

Kei’s tone is teasing, and— _wait_ , when did Kuroo start actively calling him Kei?

He’s thought about it a few times before, wondering if he’d ever be able to say it or if he’d have to just keep fantasizing about his _own_ name coming from Tsukki’s lips.

It’s different, to the way Kuroo says Keiji sometimes, or his casual usage of Kou; he could never bring himself to say Kei’s given name out loud, not when he knows his own intentions are romantic instead of platonic.

It always felt _selfish_ , like he was _lying_ to try and say “ _Kei_ ” in the same friendly way he says Keiji or Koutarou.

Tsukki reaches a hand out and Kuroo happily takes it, letting himself be pulled up off the cold ground. He _definitel_ y has grass stains on his ass, the struggles of the majority of his wardrobe being the blackest of black.

They stay holding hands, standing a short distance from each other but with a single joined hand lingering in the small space between them, and Kuroo decides to take a step forward. He practically shuffles, the tips of his shoes bumping up against Kei’s, and their breaths starting to visibly merge in the air in front of them.

He takes a deep breath in.

“Be my boyfriend,” Kuroo whispers, reaching out and grabbing Tsukki’s other hand.

“ _Hmm_ ,” Tsukki leans back, relying on the hold of their hands as he rocks on his feet, shifting the pressure as he moves, “I don’t know—”

“Kei.”

He stops swinging instantly, falling back down flat onto the soles of his feet and letting himself tip forward slightly to gently rest his forehead against Kuroo’s.

The air around them is still chilly, wind ruffling Kei’s short hair and blowing Kuroo’s fringe away from his face— which is fucking _awful_ , really, because now he can clearly see into Kei’s stupidly beautiful gold-hazel eyes and he has an up-close view of those pretty eyelashes and the slight bump of Kei’s glasses against his face is not an issue at all, seriously.

He also might be overusing his daily quota of “ _Kei_ ”, unsure how many he gets now that they’re a thing—or _close_ to a thing—but, it’s a gorgeous name for an equally gorgeous guy and Kuroo thinks that finally saying it out loud was the right choice.

Tsukki’s eyes flutter closed as he sighs, soft and heavy, and there’s a slow blush creeping in under his skin; pink and light, splotchy at first as it appears on the rounder parts of his cheeks, and then a warm red shade as it settles comfortably on the highs of his cheekbones and along the bridge of his nose.

“Kei,” Kuroo starts again, “will you—”

“Yeah,” Tsukki breathes. He grins wide, _uncontrollably_ wide, biting his bottom lip to try and stop his mouth from quirking up (and failing). “I’ll be your boyfriend.”

Kuroo laughs, letting it bubble out of him subconsciously because wow. _Wow_. It only took him like, what, four years now to finally ask out the guy of his dreams? Kenma would be so proud of him.

Oh man, Kenma— Kuroo can’t _wait_ to tell Kenma, knowing he’ll get a tired response of “ _finally_ ” even though his grumpy little face will instantly let on how happy he is, and he’ll deny it but Kuroo will know because he’s been pining for so long and Ken is always telling him to make a move already and _wow!_ He finally did it!

Maybe Tsukki actually made the first move. Kuroo doesn’t remember. He’s blissfully unaware and/or ignoring who exactly made the first move in this long game, but if it gives Kuroo a point, then he’ll take it. The fact that they’re dating now— _dating, fuck_ —doesn’t mean Kuroo is going to stop collecting and showcasing his little one-up’s over Tsukki.

Kei is still smiling at him, a lot softer this time as he watches Kuroo comedown from laughing, and his eyes shine with— oh. _Oh_. Kuroo is _such_ an idiot.

Kei’s giving him _that_ look, that same unknown look that Kuroo’s seen before, the expression he could never decipher; on their first real day here, when Kuroo had just came out of the shower— he should have noticed that one, actually, it would have solved this mess a whole lot earlier if he caught Tsukki checking him out; at the beach, after having a _feelings meltdown_ (trademark); in the kitchen— it’s endless.

It’s endless, and it’s _so_ fucking obvious now. His eyes are half-lidded as he looks down at Kuroo— _slightly_ , it’s an inch or two—and his cheeks are pink still, lips curved into a gentle smile alongside all his other delicate features.

It’s _affection_ , Kuroo thinks, or adoration, or whatever. _Love, maybe_.

They were close enough that they could— if he just— Kuroo feels Tsukki shiver and it immediately snaps him out of his thoughts, eyes flicking back up to meet Kei’s, and oh fuck, _right_ , he’s only wearing a stupid _sweater_.

“We should get back,” Kuroo says, and Kei chuckles.

“Sure, sure,” he tugs at Kuroo’s hand as he starts walking towards the exit, “let’s go then, _boyfriend_.”

Kuroo lets out a happy and heavy sigh, absolutely _smitten_ , and lets his body move on autopilot. His legs move along and Kuroo doesn’t even have to think about it, just lets himself follow as he endlessly repeats the word “ _boyfriend_ ” in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow they finally did it huh.... .. anyways next week may or may not have an update! im not sure!! im a little busy in life currently and might not be able to make my usual update day, so if theres no chapter next week then look forward to it the week after!! apologies for any delayssss
> 
> feel free to hmu on [twitter](https://twitter.com/transtsukki) though im friendly i swear


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